Superpowers and Superspies
by brickroad16
Summary: Chuck and Sarah deal with Bryce's return and learn how to balance spy life with family life.
1. Superpowers

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: This is for Bill. :) Also, this popped into my head after reading the spoilers for Episode 2.03.

* * *

Chuck runs a hand through his hair as he reaches the darkened beach. He pulls out his phone to check the time on the text message, making sure he's not too early.

She should be here, but he doesn't have to wait long. He settles down Indian-style facing the ocean, and, a minute or so later, he hears her soft footsteps in the sand. He turns his head slightly to watch her sit down beside him.

Sighing, Sarah sits in the same position, her knee barely touching his. She turns her face toward the stars, her eyes searching. She doesn't look angry, but she's not smiling either.

"Did you ask me here so you could ream me out?" he inquires, trying to keep his voice light.

Her face remains tilted toward the sky. "Why would I yell at you?" she asks calmly.

He turns away, looking at the rolling of the ocean waves. "For not following orders."

"No," she chuckles. "You did pretty well today. Not that I condone disobeying orders, but," she pauses to finally glance at him, "you did well."

Chuck nods, smiling slightly at the praise. "So why are we here?"

She grimaces. "We have . . . other issues to discuss."

He closes his eyes and rubs his eyebrow with the heel of his hand.

"I assume you know what those are," she says softly, tracing a circle in the sand.

"Why don't you come out and say it?" he challenges sharply.

"Fine," Sarah says, her voice still even. "Bryce."

He waits for more, but she's given him the lead. He's certainly got a lot to explain. Everything had seemed to make sense during the mission, when the sun was shining. But here, in the sand, under the stars, he realizes how childishly he had behaved. And if he can't be honest with Sarah, who can he be honest with?

"I hate it when he comes back," he confesses, his voice barely audible above the _whoosh_-ing of the waves.

Sarah twists to face him and places her hands on his arm. "Hey," she coaxes, "Look at me."

Reluctantly, he looks at her out of the corner of his eyes, his lips pursed.

"Come on," she urges, tugging on his arm to get him to turn his whole body towards her.

He's finding it hard to refuse her anything, and he complies, lifting himself up by his hands and turning his crossed legs in her direction. He's facing her now, but he carefully avoids her gaze, looking instead at the sand off to his left.

"Why?" she asks simply.

He scowls, unable to stop the words from flowing out of his mouth. "Because you're always so distant. He pops up every couple of months and all of a sudden you're questioning your every move? How is that fair?"

He feels her hands in his, and he glances up to see shock on her face. She averts her eyes quickly, flipping his hands over so she can run her fingers lightly over his palms.

"I hate seeing you like that," he continues. "I think, I _hope_ . . . that when you're with me, you don't feel like that."

A shy smile appears on her face, and she shakes her head. "No, I feel . . ." she trails off, searching for the word. "Comfortable," she finally says, "Like I don't have to think."

He chuckles. "That's comforting!"

She laughs and pushes his shoulder. "You know what I mean. I can be . . . myself." Her eyes are downcast, timid.

He studies her, wondering with a pang if the woman she presents to him is the real her. But she resumes her torturous exploration of his palms, and he's hooked once again.

"But the reality is, Chuck," she begins again, the wistful tone gone from her voice, "that he's working with Fulcrum. And because of that, he's going to be around a lot more. He has information we can use to keep you safe."

He heaves a sigh, withholding an answer.

"He's doing this to help you," she emphasizes, keeping her eyes on their linked hands.

He lets out an incredulous laugh.

"What?" she asks as she lifts her gaze to meet his.

He inhales a deep lungful of salty air to buy himself some time. "He's not doing it for me."

"Of course he is."

"No, Sarah, he's not," he says forcefully. How could she not see? "He's ticked off that Fulcrum got the better of him, so now he's out to take them down." He softens his tone, knowing his old friend deserves some respect. "He's looking out for himself. That's all."

Sarah shows no change in expression. After mulling over his response for a minute or so, she inquires, "You remember that this is the guy who tried to save you from our world?"

Nodding, he refrains from laughing. "You'd think for a guy so smart, he could have found a better way."

She smiles sadly. He turns his face away to look back at the ocean.

"I'm sorry, you know," she whispers, almost too softly for him to hear over the rushing of the waves.

He turns back to her. "For what?"

"For acting the way I do around him."

Her fingers are still flitting dexterously over his hands. He captures them before she can react. Her eyes widen in surprise, but he threads his fingers through hers.

"It's all right," he says softly. "I know it must be tough for you."

She cocks her head, silently asking for edification.

"Living on your own for so long, relying on only yourself, and then having to spend so much time with me and my friends."

She smiles, lifting their entwined hands in the air so their elbows are resting on their knees. "I happen to like your family and friends."

"I know," he chuckles, his voice becoming serious again. "But sometimes when we're with Ellie and Awesome, you get this look on your face. I can't describe it very well. It's . . . unbearably sad. I just hate to see you like that."

The smile fades from her lips and she looks down at the sand. She doesn't meet his eyes as she confesses, "I never met anyone who made me question the choice that I had made."

His brow furrows. He's not quite sure what to make of that, or how to respond. So he stays silent, trying to decipher the meaning of her words.

"Hey," she says softly, glancing up at him. "What are you thinking?"

He breaks out into a grin. "No fair!"

"What?" she laughs, the sound lightening his dark mood.

"You can't ask me questions that I can't ask you!" he teases.

She protests with a smile. "You can ask me that!"

"But you'd never answer it!" he laughs. When she doesn't respond, he says smugly, "Told you."

She looks away quickly and then back at him. She speaks again, her voice softer and more serious. "I'd never lie to you."

Chuck nods, crazy enough to believe her. Seeing the embarrassment on her face, he changes the subject. "Okay, okay," he says with a grin. "Serious question."

Like he was hoping, a smile returns to her lips. "All right, shoot."

"If you had a superpower, what would it be?"

She lets out a loud burst of laughter.

"I'm being serious!" grumbles Chuck.

"All right, all right," she says through her laughter, holding a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry. Can you give me some options?"

He purses his lips and answers cheekily, "No, that would be influencing your decision."

"Oh, come on!" she says loudly, ignoring the fact that her voice is carrying over the mostly deserted beach. "How am I supposed to pick if I barely know what I can pick from?"

He relents. "Okay, fine." He sticks out his tongue at her and mutters, "Baby." She fights back a laugh as he continues, "There's teleportation, super-strength, super-speed, super-hearing, x-ray vision, flight, regeneration/healing, telekinesis, mimicry, self-replication, invisibility –"

"All right, enough!" she chuckles. "I think I've got a good idea."

He holds his hands up, palms facing her. "Hey, you asked!"

Sarah shakes her head. "You're very right. I did."

She takes his hands back possessively, holding them loosely in her own. Chuck's smile fades at the contact. To prevent the conversation from taking another morose turn, she answers his original question. "I think I'd want . . ." She trails off, twisting her mouth in thought. As soon as he had mentioned it, she'd known she would pick healing. But of course Chuck would ask her why she picked it, and she couldn't just confess that she would choose that power simply to keep him safe. Sighing, she says, "Flight. I'd want to fly."

He gives her a half-smile and squeezes her hand. "Why?"

She takes a deep breath before answering. "Life's so loud. I'd use it at night to get away from everything, all the noise and the distractions. What about you?"

"I think I'd pick invisibility."

She chuckles softly. "Okay, why that?"

"Well, it'd certainly help with the whole stealth thing during missions." He doesn't add that another use would be to run from their exasperatingly uneven relationship, to hide from her painfully expressive eyes.

"Hey," she says reassuringly, gently tugging on his fingers. "You're getting better."

He nods, feeling his heart elevate the slightest bit. He opens his mouth, but hesitates. She waits patiently for him to speak, and he finally spits out, "Why don't they train me?" Seeing the surprise on her face, he elaborates. "I'm not asking to become a full-fledged agent, but something – _anything_, really – would be better than nothing."

She looks at him sideways, and she doesn't have to answer because they both know the truth. The government feels he's expendable. If they felt otherwise, he would have been considered a recruit ten seconds after that Intersect was downloaded into his brain. But the superiors have left him to flounder with just his two handlers as protectors, and Chuck and Sarah both know that his time is limited, at least in the government's eyes.

The only other option is that Casey or Sarah teach him some defense. Chuck wouldn't dare ask Casey. He'd just laugh in his face. And learning from Sarah would be a disaster, mainly due to how much time they'd spend in close proximity. They have enough trouble keeping a professional front as it is.

Gazing at Chuck's downcast expression, she heaves a sigh and wonders if she should broach another topic, one much more perilous. "Do you ever wonder what would have happened if we had met differently?"

Chuck's eyes shoot up to meet hers. He swallows, amazed that she thinks about it, too. "All the time," he admits. Seeing that she's going to backpedal, he quickly adds, "And then I realize that you probably wouldn't have noticed me anyways." He chuckles nervously.

She stares at him, shaking her head incredulously. "No," she protests softly. "Chuck, I could never not notice you."

He quirks a smile. "You think that, but if you just passed me on the street, you wouldn't find anything remarkable about me."

Sarah's shoulders slump. She hates hearing him talk like that. "You should have," she begins, her face turned away from him, "more confidence in yourself."

He leans forward to get a better look at her face. "Well, I've gotten better. Thanks to my friends, mostly."

She looks up at him, and he's happy to see a smile lighting her expression. "Yeah, I guess you've come a long way since your Vicki Vale days," she teases.

He covers his eyes in embarrassment. "Oh, my God. You pretty much scared the hell out of me that day. And that was even before I knew what you do for a living."

Sarah fakes shock. "What? Little old me?"

"Don't be so proud of yourself. I hadn't talked to a woman in five years."

She laughs, the sound as pleasing to him as the waves crashing into the shore.

Their mingled laughter drifts out over the beach, and they're so wrapped up in each other's company that neither notices a figure hovering in the shadows in the parking lot. From his distance, Bryce can't hear their whole conversation, but he's intelligent enough to piece together the scene. With a low sigh of frustration, he sneaks out of the lot and to his motorcycle that's parked a few streets away.

Sarah Walker has some serious explaining to do.


	2. Superspies

A/N: I don't actually have much to say about this chapter, but thanks to those who read and reviewed chapter 1! :)

Okay, so I realize that Bryce is usually portrayed as a jerk and that he is more layered than he appears, but it serves my purposes, lol.

* * *

Sarah unlocks her door, still grinning like a schoolgirl from her conversation with Chuck on the beach. Spending time with him is when she feels most normal, and they had ended on a nice note tonight. She's still riding that high as she opens the door to the apartment. She freezes, immediately sensing that something's not right. Surreptitiously, she slips her gun out of the back of her waistband and brings it up in front of her body. She takes a small step forward, squinting into the darkness for signs of an intruder.

"Relax," comes a familiar voice from the shadowy corner. "It's just me." Sarah lets the tension out of her shoulders with a barely audible sigh.

Bryce.

She lowers her gun and flips on the light, and, sure enough, he's stretched out on her bed, his legs crossed at the ankles and his arms behind his head. The charming grin on his face fades when she doesn't match it with one of her own. Instead, a frown darkens her features.

"Sarah," he says, a tinge of desperation slipping through his carefully crafted façade.

She locks eyes with him, and suddenly all the confusion she's felt lately when dealing with him comes rushing over her. She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, breaking their stare. The closer she grows to Chuck, the further she slips from Bryce, and the worse the uncertainty gets.

Opening her eyes, she turns away from him and toward the window. "You got what you came for. I figured you'd be halfway across the country by now."

"You should know me better than that," he answers as he slides off the bed and comes to stand near her.

She pretends to be preoccupied with the lights of the city stretched out in front of her, but she's too focused on her reaction to him to register much of the sight. Softly, she confesses, "I don't know you at all anymore, Bryce."

He reaches out for her, his fingers grazing her elbow. "And whose fault is that?" From the way he says it, she can't tell if it's an accusation or simply a rhetorical question.

She scoffs and turns to look him in the eye. "Which argument do you want to have this time, Bryce? Why you let me think you went rogue or why you gave me an offer to join you that you knew I couldn't accept?"

"You could have come with me, Sarah," he charges calmly. "There's nothing keeping you here."

She lets out a mirthless chuckle. "What about my duty?"

"Will you stop about your damn duty?" he snaps. "When are you going to stop hiding behind that excuse?"

Sarah takes an involuntary step back. It's unnerving to watch the usually composed and collected man before her lose his temper. The incidence simply serves to remind her of how much they've grown apart.

"Bryce, we're agents of the U.S. government," she says harshly. "Do I have to remind you that we put the needs of our country before our personal needs?"

"This isn't about the country's needs," he insists, "and you know that."

"He needs protecting, Bryce, and I sure as hell am not going to leave that up to the NSA." She hopes appealing to his dislike of the rival agency, and of Casey in particular, will help her argument.

Bryce turns away, running a hand over his forehead in frustrated. He's never had such a hard time reaching her. He says, "That's not what I'm suggesting, but anyone from the CIA can look after him. He needs a baby sitter, not an undercover operative."

The callous words sting more than she's ready to admit. She shakes her head. "Don't say that. You haven't seen how much he contributes to this team."

"Oh, so you're a team now?" He raises an eyebrow, and his words are mocking. "And how's Casey feel about that? I never pegged him as much of a team player."

She scoffs, but she's determined to end this. "You're being unreasonable, Bryce. You should go."

He takes a step toward her, almost pinning her against the window. "Not before you give me a straight answer."

"Regarding what, exactly?" she responds audaciously.

Bryce inclines his head, moistening his lips. "Do you still love me?"

Her gaze flickers between his hazel eyes, giving her time to think. After knowing Chuck for over a year, she's come to realize that what she had with Bryce wasn't love at all, but she needs to tread lightly with this subject.

"No," she responds softly, "We're too different now. We've both changed." There. Pin the blame on neither of them.

"That doesn't mean you can't learn to love me again if you come with me," he says, and his proximity is irritating, the hint of mint on his breath too enticing. "I'm still in love with you, and we could be a great team again."

With an uneven breath, she murmurs not quite convincingly, "Those days are over."

He retreats a step, looking faintly sick. "Because of Chuck?"

She looks up at him sharply. "Why would you think that?"

"It's true, isn't it? He's why you can't leave L.A." The betrayal in his eyes confuses and angers her, for she's done nothing to earn it.

Sarah doesn't respond right away. Technically, it's true. He's her assignment, but an affirmative answer could be interpreted incorrectly, especially since Bryce is very emotional right now, more so than she's ever seen him.

"Sarah, I need you to tell me the truth. Have you compromised yourself with Chuck?"

She swallows. Has she? Since that fretful night on the helipad, she and Chuck have sort of come to an agreement. He's backed off, stopped continually pushing her, and she's stopped hiding her feelings, at least in her actions. She's never actually said anything to him. And while both understand that their relationship extends beyond the normal realm of friendship, they also recognize what the consequences of pushing their relationship any further would be.

So if she's never directly told Chuck about her feelings, then she hasn't technically compromised herself.

She answers softly, "No."

Bryce loses it, throwing his hands up in anger. "That's bullshit, Sarah! I saw you on the beach tonight! How do you explain that?"

The confession shocks Sarah, and her voice is livid as she rounds on him and yells, "You were spying on us? Bryce, he trusts me! Do you have any idea how much damage you would have done if he had found out?"

Bryce spits, "That's what it always comes down to, doesn't it? How poor Chuckie feels at the end of the day."

She's never seen him act like this, and it's infuriating. She opens her mouth to argue, but stops, her eyes widening in realization. Putting a hand over her mouth, she says quietly, "Oh, my God. You're jealous."

He looks up quickly, his eyes clouded. "No," he protests. "No, I'm not."

She takes her hand away from her mouth and moves toward him, determined to get to the bottom of this. "Yes, you are. You're jealous of Chuck." Unsure of how far to push him, she pauses before accusing, "And that just kills you." She looks away from him and mutters to herself, "He was right."

From the moment she had met him, she'd been able to look past Bryce's egoism. She had accepted it as part of the bad boy persona that she always fell for. But it's not until this moment that she sees his selfishness is an act to cover his insecurities.

Bryce fumes silently, torn between denial and rage.

Sarah glances at him and suddenly finds that she's unable to keep silent. "You were always the popular guy on campus," she conjectures. "You took him under your wing. People liked him, but not as much as they liked you, which was your intention. But now he's living the life you wanted while you're stuck tracking down Fulcrum. It's a stressful, thankless assignment, and you're close to cracking under the pressure."

Bryce stares at her, and his mask slips for a split second, allowing her to see a glimpse of the weariness he's been hiding.

"How close did I come?" she asks, her eyes glinting dangerously but her voice soft.

"I should go," he says, his voice subdued.

She nods, satisfied that he's finally gotten the message but upset that she had to resort to such means.

"I guess I'll be in touch," he tells her, taking a step away. "But don't worry, not too often. I can't risk blowing my cover."

For just a moment, she sees a hint of his charming smile. He crosses swiftly to the door and his hand is on the knob before she has the courage to speak.

"Bryce," she calls. He freezes, listening expectantly, but doesn't look at her. "Be careful," she says quietly.

He gives her a quick nod and is out the door. With a sigh, she collapses onto the bed.

* * *

Once on the street, Bryce glances up at Sarah's window to make sure she's not watching him. Confident that she's not, he pulls out his cell phone and dials a number. When requested, he punches in Graham's code and then his own. It's two minutes before he finally gets patched in to the director of the CIA.

Walking briskly down the sidewalk, he greets his superior, "Evening, Director."

"This better be important, Larkin," Graham growls.

Bryce decides to keep it short. "I thought I should inform you, sir, that Walker's become emotionally compromised with her asset."

A pause. "Are you sure about this?" His voice is low but deadly.

Bryce hesitates for only a second. "Absolutely. I regret having to tell you this."

"Nice work, Larkin. Good night."

"'Night, sir." The connection goes dead. Bryce snaps the phone shut. He stops walking and says to the empty night, "I'm sorry, buddy."

* * *

Back in her apartment, Sarah lies on her bed, her phone in her hand, debating over whether to call Chuck. She's already spent more time with him tonight than she meant to, thanks to his dangerous way of making her forget her surroundings. But after her confrontation with Bryce, she's simply in need of a friend, or even a friendly voice. With a sigh, she hits the first number on speed dial. He picks up in the middle of the third ring.

"Hey," he says, sounding sleepy.

"Hi," she responds softly, not fighting the smile that rises to her lips.

He chuckles, "Didn't I just talk to you?"

"I'm sorry for calling so late." She fiddles with the fringe of the pillow that's resting in her lap. He couldn't have gotten home very long ago, and he probably went straight to sleep. She bites her lip, regretting waking him up.

"No, no. That's okay," he tells her, but his protestation is weakened by the yawn that immediately follows.

"I just, I wanted to hear your voice before I went to sleep."

There's a short silence, but before it grows uncomfortable, he replies, "Are you having trouble sleeping? Because I can recite the entirety of _The Wrath of Khan_. You'll be asleep within ten minutes. Guaranteed."

She laughs and then stops abruptly. "Wait, you're serious?"

He confirms it with a laugh and begins quoting the movie from the beginning. She instantly knows that she won't be getting any sleep tonight.


	3. Spaghetti

A/N: Once again, thanks for the reviews. :)

* * *

Chuck, lying on his bed, stares at the sleeping blond next to him. He's exhausted, but the prospect of catching up on the sleep he missed last night is nothing compared to staying awake and seeing her more serene than he ever has. Sarah had claimed she was too tired to drive home after her shift at the Weinerlicious, so he'd driven them straight here and Sarah had been out within five minutes of getting to his room, veering from her goal only to change into some more comfortable clothes. She's been asleep for forty-five minutes now, and he's spooned against her, one arm somehow pinned beneath her body. With his free hand, he reaches up and lightly strokes her bare elbow.

He loves moments like this, when they can be themselves, when she doesn't have to worry about hiding who she is. True, she's asleep, but her brow isn't furrowed, and her eyes aren't clouded with worry. The effect is calming.

The moment is interrupted by a soft knock on the bedroom door.

"Come in," he calls in a low voice.

The door squeaks open. "Oh, I'm sorry," Ellie says quietly. "I didn't know Sarah was here."

He twists his head to get a look at his sister. "No, it's fine. Did you need something?"

"Well, I thought we could talk, but I didn't realize Sarah was over, so it can wait."

From the way she says it, Chuck can tell that whatever's on her mind is serious. He sits up half-way, his arm still pinned underneath the woman sleeping beside him. "No, we can talk. Just let me . . ." He indicates his position with a smile and slowly, carefully extracts his arm. He slithers off the bed and follows his sister, shooting one last look at Sarah, who is still sleeping peacefully.

Ellie heads to the living room and takes a seat on the couch, resting her elbow against the edge and leaning her head on her hand. He flops onto the other end of the couch, suddenly wary of the serious look in her eye. He waits for her to speak, but she doesn't seem to be inclined to start the conversation.

"So," he says, drawing out the word. "Did you have something particular that you wanted to talk about?"

"How long will Sarah be asleep?"

Chuck's confusion is reflected in his expression. He doesn't see what that has to do with anything. "Does it matter?" he asks.

Ellie takes a breath. "Well, I wanted to talk about your relationship."

Oh, no. He leans forward, rests his elbows on his knees, and massages his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. He sighs. "What about it?"

"Chuck, I realize that you think I'm just being a pesky older sister, but you've known Sarah for a year now and, honestly, it seems like it's not going anywhere."

"We just . . . have this connection. You've said it yourself," he protests.

"I know, I know, but I don't think you should limit yourself."

"Limit myself?" Puzzled, he looks up.

"I just mean that you shouldn't overlook other options simply because you're too preoccupied with Sarah."

"Ellie," he begins, slightly frustrated, "I'm 28 years old and I still work at the Buy More. I don't have any options."

Ellie looks at him sharply. "That's not true, Chuck! First of all, you are a very charming guy. There are lots of girls out there looking for nice guys. Second of all, maybe it's time you put more thought into your career."

"The Buy More is not a career," he laughs.

"Exactly! Don't you think you should give some serious thought to what you want to do for the rest of your life?"

"Ellie, who's going to hire a guy who got kicked out of school?"

"Well, then go back to school," she urges. "You have most of your credits done already. You only need to finish another semester." He hesitates, and she takes the opportunity to add, "The Buy More was only supposed to be temporary, remember?"

He nods reluctantly, "I've thought about it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And I know you don't think highly of Sarah –"

"It's not that," Ellie interrupts. "I think Sarah's great."

"Then what is it?"

"I just think she's maybe . . . not being fair with you. You deserve someone who appreciates you."

His eyebrows narrow. "What do you mean?"

"Come on, Chuck. There's no real reason you two shouldn't be together, so why is she holding back?"

Chuck doesn't have a very good response to that, but Sarah strides into the living room, saving him from answering. She runs a hand over her eyes sleepily and pretends not to notice Ellie's embarrassed look.

She yawns. "I'm sorry I slept so long. Why didn't you get me up, Chuck?"

He quirks a smile at her. "You looked so . . . untroubled. I couldn't wake you."

Ellie stands up abruptly, her expression mollified. "Well, I guess I should start dinner. Sarah, are you staying?"

Sarah glances at Chuck to take the lead. He rises from the couch and moves toward her. Looking at his sister, he says, "Yeah, she is. But you know what? Why don't we take care of dinner tonight?"

Ellie smiles. "Are you sure?"

He shrugs. "Let's face it. I don't exactly pull my own weight around here. You and Awesome work too hard. Just relax tonight."

"Wow. Thank you, Chuck." She gives him a brief hug and bounces off to her room.

Sarah rounds on Chuck. "By 'we,' you meant 'you,' right?"

He grins and walks into the kitchen, dragging her by the hand. "Nope. No way you're getting out of this."

"Oh, come on, Chuck!" she whines. "You know I can't cook."

"Maybe it's time to learn then," he jokes, but there's a serious glint in his eye.

She bites her lip, knowing that spending even an hour innocently cooking dinner with him could turn into so much more. He gives her his best persuasive face, and she lets out a breath she wasn't aware she was holding. "Fine," she gives in with an exaggerated huff and an eye roll. "What are we making?"

He laughs and turns to open a bottom cabinet. "That's my girl."

She follows him, ignoring the dull ache in her heart.

_His girl_.

There's no arguing with that.

"So, I was thinking spaghetti," he tells her over the clattering of dishware, his voice muffled because his head is buried in the cabinet. He peaks out. "You know – quick, easy, tasty. What do you say?"

That charming smile will get her every time. Not trusting herself to speak, she merely nods. He disappears into the cabinet again, this time emerging with a pot.

"The spaghetti should be over there," he says, indicating a cabinet across the kitchen. She crosses the room, opens the cupboard, and grabs a box of pasta.

He fills the pot with water and places it on the stove. Leaning to turn on the burner, she puts a hand on his shoulder and asks softly, "So what's with Ellie?"

He jumps slightly and babbles, "Huh? What are you talking about? Nothing's 'with' Ellie. Nothing at all. She's perfectly fine."

Sarah narrows her gaze and intones dangerously, "Chuck."

He swallows, smiling nervously. He's no match for the determination in her eyes. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Fine. Ellie thinks you're a commitmentphobe and that our relationship is going nowhere because you don't appreciate me." The words come out fast, in one breath.

Sarah takes a step backward, and Chuck recognizes the hurt that flickers in her eyes.

"Did she say that?" she asks.

He reaches out to put a hand on her arm. "Well, she didn't phrase it exactly like that."

She looks up at him expectantly. "And what do you think?"

He tilts his head. She blushes, suddenly timid under his intent stare.

"I think we're us," he says simply.

The answer seems to appease her, and they return to the task at hand. The dinner-making goes fairly quickly, and Sarah manages to keep her distance from Chuck in the small kitchen. By the time the food's ready, she's even confident enough to actually try making spaghetti on her own.

Leaning against the table, she watches him drain the noodles and says, "Thanks to you, I now know how to make one meal."

He laughs. "I bet you're not as bad of a cook as you say you are."

"Remind me never to cook for you then," she smiles. "It'd shatter the illusion."

He turns around and looks at her intently. He hesitates before saying, "That's okay. I can hold my own in the kitchen. Nothing fancy, but certainly more than edible."

Sarah swallows, knowing perfectly well what he's suggesting. He knows that look, and it makes him regret his words. She's pulling away from him.

She replies quietly, "I'll go tell Ellie and Awesome that dinner's ready."

Chuck follows her with his gaze as she walks hastily out of the kitchen. Frustrated, he rubs his temples. He seems to always screw up, to say the exact wrong thing just as they've been getting along. If only he knew how to fix it afterwards.

* * *

Dinner is only slightly awkward, mainly thanks to Devon, who is either too unobservant to perceive the tense atmosphere at the table or too caring to let the awkwardness persist.

Sarah sits quietly next to Chuck, but it's the comfortable kind of quiet that he likes. Towards the end of the meal, she slides her hand under the table and places it lightly over his, resting on his thigh. He glances at her in surprise, but she's engaged in a conversation about the upcoming wedding with Ellie and Devon. Chuck smiles, marveling at how easily she's gotten back on his sister's good side.

His thoughts are interrupted by the muffled ring of a cell phone.

Sarah smiles sheepishly and pulls her phone out of her pocket. "Sorry." She looks at the caller ID, her eyes darkening. "I'm sorry, I have to take this," she says, shooting an apologetic look toward Chuck. She rises from her chair and heads toward his room, not answering the phone until she's down the hall.

Ellie clears her throat uneasily.

He turns to her, his lips pursed. "What?"

She raises her hands innocently. "All I'm saying is that we've known her for a year, and she's still very secretive."

He glances down at his plate and back up, upset that the comfortable moment between two of the people who mean the most to him has been lost. "She has a hard time opening up to people, that's all."

Ellie makes an unconvinced noise, and Devon lays a hand on her forearm.

"Babe," he says, "Just let it go. They're happy."

Chuck has always liked Devon, but now he will be eternally grateful to him.

Ellie looks over at her fiancé with a half-smile and says, "You're right." She turns back to her brother. "I'm sorry, Chuck. I shouldn't stick my nose in your business. All that matters is if you're happy."

He smiles at her. "That's okay. You're just doing your job as my big sister. But since you're wondering, yes, I am happy."

"Good."

He gathers the dishes, walks into the kitchen, and loads them into the dishwasher. He returns to the dining room and, passing near the table again, says, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go check on Sarah."

"Sure thing, bro," Devon says with a grin and a fist pound.

Chuck laughs and heads down the hallway. The door to his room is half-open, so he knocks quickly and walks in. Sarah is sitting on his bed despondently, and when he enters, she swipes a hand across her cheek.

"Hey," he says quietly, sitting down next to her. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah, fine," she says, but her voice is shaky and the smile she gives him is not quite convincing.

"You can tell me," he urges.

She stands up and looks away. "I know," she says, her voice stronger now. She heads toward the window.

"So you're leaving?" he asks unnecessarily as he stands up.

She nods. "Tell Ellie and Awesome I'm sorry I had to run."

"What should I tell them?" He roots his feet to the floor, resisting the desire to follow her in her retreat toward the window.

"Anything." Seeing the disappointment on his face, she takes a step toward him again and runs a hand through his hair. "I'll be back soon."

"An hour soon? Or a couple of days soon?"

She scowls at an uncooperative curl. "I'm not sure yet."

"Where are you going?" He knows he's asking too many questions, but he can't help himself.

Her eyes meet his for a split second, and she disengages herself, moving towards the window again. "I have some business I need to take care of."

"What kind of business?" he asks, his voice uncertain. He's sure that he's pushing her too far this time.

"Chuck," she says exasperatedly. But she turns to him, and he can see the softness in her gaze. She sighs. "I need to go kick Bryce Larkin's ass."

His eyes widen in shock, but she's out the window before he can ask for an explanation.


	4. Sleeping Secrets

A/N: Is it bad that I don't really know where I'm going with this? Lol.

* * *

It's surprisingly easy to track down Bryce, too easy considering he's working undercover to infiltrate an organization as lethal as Fulcrum. He had stayed in L.A. too long, taking the risk of staying the night and only leaving late this afternoon. It's close to 11:30 p.m. when Sarah catches up with him just outside of Quartzsite, Arizona.

So here she sits, in the parking lot of a country bar in the middle of nowhere. Her sleek black Porsche sticks out among the beaten-up trucks and dusty old sedans that have seen at least 150,000 miles. The neon signs in the windows advertising different brands of beer illuminate the dark night and add an old-fashioned feel to the bar. She's been here for twenty minutes, debating whether this was too simple. Perhaps he wanted to be found.

With a sigh, she opens the car door and climbs out into the night air, warmer and more humid than usual for October. She crosses the parking lot deliberately, enjoying the sound of the gravel crunching beneath her slow and measured steps.

The wooden door, ancient and heavy, is flanked by cacti. She reaches for the brass handle and opens the door with a heave. No one looks up at her entrance, and she throws a cursory glance over the room, choosing a seat at a table near the back. She settles into her chair and looks around. The bar's dimly lit and smoky, but she has a good view.

Sarah feels like she's stepped into a time warp. There's seventies music wafting from a jukebox in the corner, and everyone here is calm, laidback. No one comes here to get drunk. No one comes here looking to start a fight. In fact, she thinks if a fight did start in here, the patrons would hardly know what to do. Maybe she'll be courteous and take it to the parking lot.

She spots him at the bar, nursing a beer. He's talking quietly, inconspicuously with a gaunt-looking man beside him, and she realizes why he stayed so long in L.A. When one needs to meet with a contact, one has to follow the contact's schedule, sometimes bending to his or her whim. In a way, she's strangely disappointed in her former lover. If he doesn't start being more careful, he's going to get himself killed.

Knowing the information he's getting is important, especially to Chuck, Sarah orders a drink, prepared to wait. She leans back in her chair, a wicked gleam in her eyes and a smile just touching her lips.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

* * *

As Chuck paces in his room, he imagines that this must be what a caged animal feels like – knowing he should be somewhere else, but unable to do anything about his current situation. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to focus on slowing down his too rapid breathing. There's no use getting worked up over this. Sarah said she didn't know when she'd be back, so she probably won't have time to call either. He'll just have to wait, but not calling her every two minutes is taking every ounce of his willpower.

His cell phone rings in his pocket. He whips it out and flips it open without even looking at the caller ID.

"Sarah?"

"Guess again, Bartowski," Casey says harshly. "Will you stop pacing already?" Chuck immediately obeys. "I'd like to go to sleep instead of listening to you walk around all night, if you don't mind."

"Oh, yeah, sure," he stammers.

Casey sighs. "She's coming back."

Chuck feels a rush of hope. "How can you be sure?"

"She promised you," he says simply. After a pause, he adds, "And we have a meeting with Washington tomorrow night."

"Oh," Chuck says, but he's pleased just the same. "'Night, Casey."

The NSA agent grunts and hangs up. And Chuck goes to bed with a smile on his face.

He awakes a few hours later, groggily perceiving that his cell phone, laying on his pillow, is ringing, its screen throwing a bluish light onto his sheets. Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he reaches out for it with the other. He flips the phone open and says in a gravelly voice, "Hello?"

"Chuck?"

He sits up. "Sarah?"

"Did I wake you?" she asks softly.

He glances over at his clock to see that it's close to two in the morning and replies unconvincingly, "No, no, of course not."

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to let you know that I'm okay."

He smiles. "I'm glad." There's a short pause, but it's not uncomfortable. Chuck closes his eyes, content just knowing that she's on the other end of the line. "So, everything's okay?"

She says, "Yeah, everything's taken care of."

The way she says it causes a chill to run down his spine. He has a sudden image of his first flash on her, when she was walking in the Buy More wearing that blue dress and that blue ring. He doesn't want to know what she had to take care of, and he's not envious of whoever was on the receiving end of that business.

"You still there?" she asks, her voice tinged with concern.

"Yeah, yeah," he replies distractedly.

Another short pause.

"I'm coming . . . back," she says hesitantly, and he's sure that she was going to say something else. "But I won't be there until the morning."

"Okay." He lies back down and stares at the ceiling.

"Chuck?" Her voice is so quiet that he can barely hear her.

"Yeah?

She inhales slowly. "Is it . . . is it all right if I come there when I get back?'

"Yes," he answers breathlessly. He doesn't care where she is, he doesn't care what she's doing there, and he doesn't care how long it takes her to get from there to here. What he cares about is that, for the first time, she's putting her own needs above any one else's.

"Thanks," she says, her voice slightly choked. "I just can't handle being alone tonight."

Her honesty staggers him for a moment, but he manages to say, "I'll leave the window unlocked."

She chuckles. "I guess I'll see you soon then."

"Guess so."

"Good night. Don't wait up for me."

"'Night, Sarah."

The connection goes dead. He sets the phone on the bedside table, rolls over, and shuts his eyes. His mind is reeling, and he knows sleep won't come easily, but he runs over his conversation with Sarah until he finally drifts off.

When he wakes for the second time, the room is light from the sun streaming in through the window. He immediately notices the blond hair tickling his chin, and a smile springs to his face. He marvels that this is the second time in as many days that she's slept in his embrace. She's tucked into him, her arms curled up between her body and his. Somehow during the night, his arms have found their way around her, and he constricts his loose hold. She stirs when he places a soft kiss on her forehead.

"Mmm," she murmurs with a smile, opening her eyes and tilting her head to look up at him.

"Good morning, beautiful," he says quietly.

The smile on her face lingers, but her eyes darken. And he gets that feeling that he often gets around her of wanting to take back his words. Instead of pulling away like he expects, however, she buries her head into his chest and mumbles, "What time is it?"

He glances at the clock. "Just about 9:30."

She groans sleepily. "Do you work today?"

"The afternoon shift."

"Good," she replies, snaking her arms around his waist and tightening her grip. "I'm going back to sleep. Be here when I wake up?"

He reaches a hand up to stroke her hair, whispering, "Of course."

* * *

Chuck walks down the hallway, toweling his hair dry and sniffing. He swears he smells bacon, but in the year that he's known Sarah, she's never cooked anything. He's never even seen her make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He's still not sure where that soufflé came from that first time she had dinner with his family.

But he walks into the kitchen and an unbidden smile appears on his face at the sight of her standing over the stove cooking breakfast. The scene is so ordinary, so refreshing. He longs to wake up to her every morning, but knows that expressing that desire will only scare her off. So he keeps his mouth shut and walks into the kitchen, prepared to suffer through another day watching her close herself off to him.

She looks up as he walks in. "Hey," she says over the sound of sizzling bacon. "I thought I'd make you some breakfast."

"What's the occasion?" he jokes, but his words fall flat.

She offers a weak smile, and he runs from this awkward dance they're doing, turning to the fridge to get the orange juice. After pouring two glasses, he finally looks back at her and finds himself accosted by the sadness in her gaze.

He crosses the kitchen in two strides. "What is it?"

She turns back to frying the bacon. "Nothing."

"Sarah," he says softly as he places a hand on her hip. "I've known you long enough to recognize when something's wrong. And I can tell that something's changed. Something big."

Sarah closes her eyes. Even spending an extended amount of time in an assignment is not an excuse for letting someone get that close to you. But from the first smile, she had had a hard time combating the utter normalcy he offered. She knows she should end this before he gets the wrong impression, but everything over the last day has taken so much out of her, and his touch is so calming. She hardly has any strength left.

"Can't I just make you breakfast?" she asks, not meeting his eyes.

"Yeah, sure," he mumbles and withdraws his hand.

She sighs, feeling like she loses a part of herself when she loses that point of contact. She watches him out of the corner of her eye as he sits down at the table and fiddles with the towel draped around hid shoulders. She finishes frying the bacon and divides it onto two plates, both of which already have eggs. Taking the plates over to the table, she sits down across from Chuck. He pushes a glass of orange juice over to her while she slides a plate over to him. It's a simple, let's-not-fight-anymore exchange that they've both grown used to in the past year.

Chuck, hating the way she always finagles her way out of talking about anything important, digs into his breakfast more to avoid making small talk than because he actually has an appetite. But to his surprise, the eggs are delicious.

He decides against insulting her by telling her that he didn't think she could cook and instead grunts, "These are good."

She expresses her thanks, and they go back to eating in silence. Ten minutes later, he stands up from the table and runs to his room to grab his button down and tie. He returns to the kitchen buttoning up his shirt.

"I have to get to work," he tells her unnecessarily.

She moves toward him, takes the tie out of his hand, and loops it around his popped collar. While tying it she says, "Okay. I've got a meeting over at Casey's this evening, but I'll be back after."

"Sure," he agrees absently, not really understanding why she needs to be with him if she won't even talk to him.

He starts to move away, but she's still holding onto his tie. Taking a deep breath, her gaze averted, she moves her hands to his chest. His heart rate skyrockets.

"Sarah," he begins shakily, but before he can get out another word of protest she plants her lips firmly on his.

The kiss is short but insistent, and it's enough to show him her desire to open up. She breaks it off, but leans her forehead against his. He loops an arm around her waist, holding her tight.

"I have nothing to lose anymore," she whispers.

The confession alarms him. His eyes shoot open and he pulls away to get a good look at her.

"Sarah, you're starting to scare me."

"I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice choked.

"What's going on?" he asks once again. She searches his eyes, but doesn't have the courage to answer. He tries a different tack. "Just tell me everything's going to be okay."

She looks up at him, her eyes heavy with sorrow. "I can't, because I don't know that."

He tightens his grip around her waist. "Look, I can call off work today. We can go take a drive somewhere, anywhere. Let's just get out of L.A. for a couple hours. How's that sound?" He knows he's pleading, but he's beyond caring about anything but her at this point.

Sarah hates how much he affects her. Looking at him right now, his expression so caring and honest, she knows she would do anything for him in a heartbeat. And she's tired of fighting that. She's tired of burying her feelings for the so-called greater good.

She takes a deep breath, preparing for the leap. She fortifies herself by kissing him again, deepening the kiss as she slides her arms around his shoulders.

With a sad smile, she says, "Let's get out of here."


	5. Softball

A/N: A big thank-you to **Kev525 **for helping me with the idea for this chapter!

* * *

Chuck watches Sarah warily out of the corner of his eye as she grips the steering wheel and punches the gas pedal. She's been quiet ever since he proposed skipping work to spend time together, and now they're cruising on the 405 going only she knows where.

Sarah tightens her hold on the wheel, her knuckles turning white. The windows are down, and the feeling of the wind whipping through her hair is exhilarating. The quiet atmosphere in the car is comfortable, but it also allows her mind to wander.

_Sarah glances at the neon clock on the wall as Bryce rises from his bar stool. _

_Two hours. That must have been some meeting. _

_She waits until he's outside to settle her bill. She slips out of the bar unnoticed and spots her target in the middle of the parking lot next to a beat-up Ford truck. Luckily, there are no witnesses. But if any are to come through, she can always play the wronged girlfriend card. It's not that far from the truth anyway._

_Before he can get his key into the lock, she slips over to the row of cars where he's parked. Her footsteps crunch softly – it can't be helped – and he freezes, glancing around surreptitiously at the noise. With a slight smile, she slides around to the front of his truck and emerges from the shadows._

"_Hello, Bryce," she says menacingly. _

"_Sarah," he says, his expression betraying his surprise. His eyes narrow. "Did you follow me from L.A.?"_

"_I forgot to give you something."_

_Recognizing the danger that lies behind her hard gaze, he takes an involuntary step backward._

_Almost without thinking, she clenches her right hand into a fist and swings hard. Her fist connects with Bryce's nose, sending dark purple blood splattering against the red paint of his truck. Sarah finds a sickening satisfaction in the nauseating _crack_ produced by the blow. _

"_Ah! God!" he howls, covering his nose with his hands. "What was that for?"_

_He takes his hands away to gape at her in shock, seemingly content to not fight back. _

"_That was for ruining Chuck's life. And this –" She swings again, and this time the punch lands on the mouth, sending him flying to the ground. – "is for trying to ruin mine."_

_Sarah, breathing heavily, stares down at Bryce lying crumpled on the ground. He had landed badly, his face in the dirt. He picks up his head and spits out a mixture of blood and gravel. _

_Leaning over him, she warns, "Don't you ever presume to know what's best for me."_

_Shielding his lower face with his forearm, Bryce stares up at her, blood streaming out of his nose. He coughs, spitting out another mouthful of blood, but makes no answer. _

"_Do you understand me?"_

_He nods, swallowing hard. _

_She straightens up, still looking down in revulsion. Surprisingly, she's able to restrain herself from kicking him in the ribs, but only because she knows Chuck would disapprove of __her pressing her advantage. She pulls her gaze away and walks off, her heels grinding into the gravel._

_When she reaches her car, she calls out, "You could have been something, Bryce."_

Sarah stares at the road. It was far from her finest moment, and she dreads the thought of having to tell Chuck sooner or later. But first, she wants to enjoy this afternoon.

Chuck glances at the clock. His shift started two minutes ago. Any minute now, he'll be getting a call from Casey, asking where the hell he is and threatening bodily injury if he doesn't get to work within five minutes. The clock turns to 1:03, and, right on cue, his phone starts ringing.

Before he can answer it, Sarah asks sharply, "Is it Casey?"

"Yep," he answers with a glance at the cell's screen.

"Don't answer it," she advises, her eyes still glued to the road.

He protests, "I can't not answer it. If I don't pick up, he'll send the SWAT team out looking for us."

She purses her lips. "Fine. But don't tell him any more than he needs to know."

Rolling his eyes at her cryptic instructions, he flips the phone open. "Hello?"

"Bartowski!" Casey growls. "Why isn't your skinny ass at work?"

"Relax, big guy," Chuck jokes, trying to play it cool. "Sarah and I just decided to go for a drive. It's no big deal."

Casey grunts. "If Walker's not back by the time Beckman and Graham check in tonight, I'll shoot both of you myself."

Chuck laughs weakly. "Good to know."

He snaps the phone shut and is about to tell Sarah about the call when he's distracted by the view of Easton Stadium through his window. Sarah pulls smoothly into a parking spot and hops out before he can question her. Getting out of the car into the afternoon heat, he's glad he changed out of his Buy More uniform and into a t-shirt and shorts. Sarah's waiting for him on the other side of the car, holding her hand out for him. He takes it with a smile.

"Where are we going?" he asks sweetly, though she's already leading him towards the stadium.

She chuckles, clasping his arm. "We're going to watch a scrimmage softball game. UCLA vs. Team USA."

Chuck cheerfully pays for the tickets, but as they're walking to their seats, he gets distracted by the merchandise booth.

"Ooh, Sarah! I want a hat!" He points to the hats enthusiastically. "Who are we rooting for – UCLA or USA?"

She laughs. "Whomever you want."

He scratches his chin. "Hmm . . . well, I'll leave the UCLA cheering up to Devon. Let's go for the USA hat." He lays down the money on the counter and points to a hat.

The man behind the counter hands him a dark blue hat with red letters and asks, "Will that be all?"

"Oh, shoot," mutters Chuck, turning to Sarah.

She shrugs. "What?"

"We can't just buy a hat!" He faces the man behind the counter again, rolling his eyes at Sarah's incomprehension. "We'll take one of those shirts in a large, please. And," he pauses to size up Sarah, "that shirt over there in a women's medium."

Sarah cocks her head. "What do you think you're doing?" she teases.

He smiles. "What's it look like? Buying you a t-shirt, of course." He pays for the items and hands her the shirt.

She accepts it gracefully, but says with a bemused expression, "Don't think you're going to pay for everything today."

They start walking to their seats, and, with a twinkle in his eye, he asks, "Why not?"

She doesn't answer right away. If she says this isn't a date, he'll be crushed. If she says it is, he'll only be crushed a little later. Finally, she tells him, "It's been so long since I've been on a real date that I can't remember how to act."

He slips his hand back into hers. "Don't worry. It'll come back to you."

They find their seats along the first base line. As soon as they're settled, she slips her new t-shirt over her plain black one, looking down to admire the 'USA' emblazoned across the chest. Chuck moves to do the same, but Sarah stops him.

"What?" she asks with a cheeky grin. "Are you afraid to take your shirt off?"

Openmouthed, he stares at her. She's been happy since they stepped out of the car, but he never would have expected such an audacious challenge. He breaks into a laugh and strips off his t-shirt.

Sarah's breath hitches in her throat. His skin is pale, but his muscles are unexpectedly toned. Ignoring the blush that rises to her cheeks, she resists the urge to reach out for him and turns her gaze to the field.

Chuck slides his new shirt over his head with a smile. As well as she hides things, she can't hide a blush. And he likes that he can affect her even while she tries to fight it.

Still grinning, he asks, "Why are we here exactly?"

"I wanted to share something with you."

He runs that over in his mind. "So you played softball?"

"All my life," she answers, allowing a small smile to creep onto her face at the memories.

"Even in college?" He asks it nonchalantly, but they both know his underlying motive.

"Even in college," she repeats simply.

He sighs, his shoulders slumping almost imperceptibly. But Sarah notices and amends her answer.

"I'm sorry," she tells him. "You deserve to know."

"Deserve to know what?" He tries to keep his voice light, but he's trembling with the weight of this conversation.

She turns to him and takes his hand. "I went to the University of Arizona, and I graduated in 2003."

His grin is infectious. "Really? What'd you major in?"

Before she has a chance to answer, a young woman in the row in front of them turns around and says to Sarah, "I'm sorry. I couldn't help but overhear. You went to Arizona, Class of 2003?"

Chuck's first instinct is anger at being interrupted, but Sarah merely eyes the woman warily.

"That's right," she replies cautiously.

The woman laughs. "No way! That means you played with Jennie Finch!"

Sarah sees that there's no way out of this conversation now. She had banked on Chuck not being familiar enough with the game to glean anything substantial from her admission, but she feels suddenly liberated. Why should she hide anything from him when they may only have one more day together?

She responds, "Yeah, we were teammates."

The woman grins. "That's so cool! My name's Katie, by the way. What position did you play?"

Chuck looks at Sarah expectantly. Remembering her days in college, she says sadly, "Shortstop."

"Excellent! I'm an outfielder myself, but – hey! Wait a minute!"

Sarah glances over at Chuck, feeling slightly ill and hoping that Katie didn't just figured out what she thinks she figured out. She'd been planning on telling Chuck, but it'd be more meaningful to hear her past coming from her own lips rather than from a stranger's.

Katie shakes a finger at Sarah. "Arizona, 2003, shortstop. That makes you -"

"Megan Blakeney. Yeah."

She had learned over the past six years that if there's no way of stopping a revelation, better to preempt it yourself. She feels Chuck tense beside her, but squeezes his hand.

Katie's eyes bug out. "No way!" she says again. "I can't believe that! I used to watch you during the College World Series. You guys had an awesome team!"

"Thanks. We had a lot of fun together."

Katie shakes her head. "Listen to me. The game's about to start and I'm here distracting you. I'm so sorry. But it was great to meet you."

Sarah smiles. "It's always nice to meet a fellow fan."

Katie turns back to the field, and Chuck looks at Sarah, a grin on his face.

In a soft voice, she says, "So now you know one of the biggest parts of my life."

Chuck's smile only gets bigger, and, instead of saying anything, he kisses her. It's a short, sweet kiss, and it's over much too soon for Sarah's liking. But she has enough self-control to respect his aversion to PDA. For now.

The game soon gets under way, and Sarah, who worried that she'd have to explain even the simplest rules to Chuck, is surprised by how well he can follow the plays.

"Hey, I played in Little League!" he protests after she asks him if he knows where the strike zone is.

She apologizes with a laugh and settles back into her seat, feeling content as Chuck slides his arm around her shoulders. In the bottom of the first, Team USA takes the field, and Jennie Finch strides to the mound. Sarah feels a wave of longing as she watches the players take their positions, and the sight of her old teammate triggers memories she had pushed into the corner of her mind. The spring of their senior year, both she and Jennie had been offered a chance to try out for the national team. Only she had a previous obligation, and no one had understood, Jennie least of all.

Sarah breathes in deeply, trying not to think about the fact that she could have had a completely different life – a life where she didn't have to conceal her emotions or cut off communication with her family in order to keep them safe. She could have had a fun career, a shot at the Olympics, even _friends_.

But having that carefree life would have meant never meeting the incredible man beside her.

Sensing her discomfort, Chuck gives her a squeeze. "So how many innings do they play again?"

Grateful for the distraction, she answers, "Seven."

"Right, right," he says, feigning confusion.

She laughs and, despite the afternoon heat, snuggles into him. It's a close game, and the innings go by fairly quickly. Neither team makes much headway with getting runners into scoring position. It's still scoreless by the time the fourth inning rolls around, and Chuck stands up, announcing that he's going to buy some snacks.

"All right, but I'm paying," she insists, handing him a twenty.

He tries to shove it away. "No way. I'm paying."

Giving him a flirtatious smile, she folds up the bill and sticks it into the pocket of his shorts. "Not a chance, buster."

He huffs and walks away, the edges of his mouth curving upward. He's still gone when the Bruins come up to bat, and Sarah begins to worry. But as the second batter steps up to the plate, he returns, his arms laden with food and drinks.

"Chuck, you just ate breakfast!" she teases, but his playful smile immediately disarms her.

"Oh, come on!" he replies as he tries to sit down without spilling everything. "When you go to a softball game, you need to eat a hotdog, so I got one for each of us. And since every hot dog deserves an ice cold cola to go with it, I had to get two of those, too." He pauses, and she takes a hotdog and a drink out of his arms. "And the Milk Duds are just because I love Milk Duds," he finishes somewhat lamely.

She laughs, smacking him lightly on the shoulder. He takes a bite of his hot dog, and she turns her attention back to the game just as Jennie Finch throws a pitch. The batter swings, connecting with the ball with a loud _crack_. Sarah's eyes widen as she follows the ball's trajectory.

"Chuck," she murmurs.

He looks up to the sky, locating the ball in its flight. Panicked, he stands, spilling his drink in the process, to join the dozens of other people who have already stood up in their section. She stands up, too, thinking she's probably better trained to catch a foul ball than he is. But he's taller.

Chuck jumps, stretching himself out to full height, and reaches out his right arm to grab the airborne ball. It hits his hand with a _smack_ and falls. She snatches out her free hand to grab it. The crowd around them lets out a collective breath, and Katie shoots them a smile.

"Lucky," she mutters with a pout.

Chuck, back on his feet, holds his injured hand. "Ow," he says, frowning. "That was coming faster than I realized. And I spilled my drink." He looks at her and his frown immediately turns into a smile. "Nice teamwork, though."

"Yeah, I couldn't have done it without you," she replies, adding with a laugh, "And you can share mine, you big baby."

Looking back at the field, Sarah notices Jennie Finch staring at her from the pitcher's mound, a strange expression on the ballplayer's face. Exhaling heavily, she sits down again, clutching the foul ball. Maybe she'll never have a chance to talk to her old teammate again, but at least she'll have this small reminder of the game.

She looks back at Chuck. "Thanks for doing that."

"Anything for you," he grins and promptly steals her cola.

The rest of the game goes by in a whirl, and Team USA manages to scrape out two runs in the final inning. Sarah links her hand through his as they leave the stadium, her heart heavy.

"That was a good game," Chuck says as they walk into the parking lot. He tosses the ball lightly into the air and catches it. "I think I like softball."

"Yep," she murmurs, her thoughts distant.

She releases his hand to get into the car, but as soon as they're both in, she reaches out for him again. Realizing how much she needs that connection, he makes no comment. She looks at the clock. It's not quite four o'clock yet, and her meeting with Casey isn't until seven. They have some time left, but the day's wearing thin.

Turning the key in the ignition, she says, "Let's not go home just yet."

* * *

_P.S. Olympic softball starts on August 12. Tune in! _

* * *


	6. Shelter Surprises

A/N: Thanks to the gang over at TwoP helping me with the location for this chapter, especially **originalC **and **kayla101blue** for giving me serious answers. :)

This story's turning out much longer than I expected. Hmm . . . I must do something about that, lol.

* * *

Unwilling to let the afternoon go, Sarah drives. Chuck's presence is comforting, his conversation calming. After the events of the past day, especially the revelation at the game, she's in turmoil. She's sinking deeper and deeper with every passing moment, but each solution she comes up with seems more hurtful to him than the last. Growing more despondent with each failed idea or plan, she's angry with herself for not being strong enough to save him.

Chuck leans his elbow on the door and rests his head against his fist. Though he can tell that Sarah's out of sorts, he's at a loss for how to cheer her up. She seems content to just drive without any definite destination in mind. Her eyebrows are drawn together pensively. He quirks a smile. She's adorable when she's brooding. But he hates to see her brood. What a catch-22.

They ride aimlessly for twenty minutes before there's a lull in the conversation and Chuck asks timidly, "Are we going any place in particular?"

She glances over at him. "I don't really have anywhere in mind. I'm just driving." Turning her gaze back to the road, she adds quietly, "I don't want to go back yet."

He leans over and reaches out for her. She takes one hand off the wheel and locks her fingers with his, not trusting herself to look at him but unable to keep a smile from touching her lips.

"I know a place we can go," Chuck tells her.

"Yeah? Where's that?"

He grins. "Nope. You surprised me. Now I want to surprise you."

"Fat chance," she chuckles. "I'm the one driving."

When he doesn't answer right away, she looks over to see the puppy dog expression on his face.

Catching on to his request, she shakes her head sternly. "Oh, no. No way!"

He tilts his head towards her, exclaiming, "Oh, come on, Sarah!"

"Uh-uh! Definitely not!"

"Seriously! I've known you for a year, and you'll barely let me –"

"Chuck, you are not driving this car!" she says firmly, but there's a ghost of a smile on her lips.

With a gleam in his eye, he leans even closer and places a kiss on her neck. She tenses, smiling in spite of herself.

"Chuck," she warns, but her voice comes out breathy and uncertain.

He kisses her again, unexpectedly finding a sensitive spot. Her eyes roll skywards, and if she had a free hand, she would thread her fingers through his hair.

"Okay, okay, fine," she says breathlessly, and he mercifully releases her, a smile playing on his lips. She huffs and pulls off to the side of the road. "You can drive the damn car."

Feigning irritation, she shifts the car into park, unbuckles, and opens the car door to get out of the driver's seat. As she rounds the front of the Porsche, Chuck catches her around the waist, pulling her in for a deep kiss. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, falling into him. Abruptly, though, he breaks away, his fingers trailing along her arm as he walks around the car. She rolls her eyes, hardly daring to admit how much he affects her.

Climbing into the passenger's seat, she tries to ignore the ridiculous grin on his face as he revs the engine and takes off down the street. Fifteen minutes later, he cruises to a stop inside the parking lot of the Echo Park Animal Shelter. She climbs out of the car and turns to him with a smile.

"What?" he asks with a shrug, shutting the car door.

She shakes her head. "I did not expect this, that's all."

He slips his hand into hers as they walk toward the front entrance. "Ellie and I used to volunteer here in junior high and high school. We still come around every once in a while."

Sarah breathes deeply and swings their linked hands. She could get used to this relationship thing. There may be a long road ahead of them before she completely opens up to him, but considering he's the first man to charm his way into her heart, she's sure the journey will never be boring.

Chuck leads the way into the shelter, holding the door open for her. The facility is clean and well-lit, and she's surprised by how large it is. She blushes to admit that she was expecting it to be poorly-funded and poorly-maintained. A bell tinkles as he opens the door, and the man at the counter, wearing glasses and a dark red polo, glances up.

"Chuck!" he exclaims with a grin. "It's good to see you, buddy!"

"Hey, Martin," Chuck answers, returning the grin.

Martin comes around the counter and gives Chuck a quick handshake. "How are you? I haven't seen you or Ellie in so long."

"I know. I'm sorry. We've been trying to get down, but our schedules are pretty busy."

Martin's gaze flickers to Sarah. "I believe that."

Chuck nods to Sarah. "Martin, this is my girlfriend, Sarah. Sarah, this is Martin."

They shake hands. "Your girlfriend?" Martin questions. "And here I thought you were making up for your extended absence by bringing me a blind date!"

Sarah laughs. "It's nice to meet you, Martin."

Martin replies amiably, "You, too, Sarah. I have a feeling you've been good for our boy Chuck over here." He slaps Chuck on the shoulder and moves back behind the counter, picking up a clipboard. Rifling over the sheets, he continues, "So what can I do for you today? Are you looking to walk? Wash?" He glances up, narrowing his eyes. "Adopt?"

Chuck laughs and looks at Sarah. "I think we'll just walk." With a squeeze of her hand, he adds softly, "Today."

Martin nods and pulls out a paper. There's a hint of a smile on his face as he says, "If you could fill this volunteer form out for me, that'd be great. And then we'll go ahead and get you set up."

Chuck fills out the form, signs it at the bottom, and hands the pen to Sarah. She scrawls her name on the form and returns it to Martin.

"All right, you two," he says happily. "Follow me."

The back room is substantially noisier and more crowded than the front lobby. The room is narrow, but long, filled with cages upon cages. Cats on one side, dogs on the other. The sounds of yapping and mewing reverberate around them.

"Any one catch your eye?" Martin asks over the noise.

Sarah looks around at the different dogs, her gaze alighting on a mangy, grey and white Husky Shepherd mix at the end of the row.

"That one," she points.

The men follow her finger.

"Pyramus?" Martin asks.

Chuck's look betrays his confusion. His words are barely audible over the barking. "Who names a dog 'Pyramus'?"

"That's the dog," Sarah confirms with a smile.

Martin turns to her. "He was brought in a couple of weeks ago, abused, emaciated. He just got cleared for adoption on Sunday."

Sarah leans into Chuck, looking up at him with a request in her eyes.

He smiles and says, "Yep. Let's take him out for a spin."

* * *

There are already a few volunteers walking dogs in the park behind the shelter, so Sarah steers Chuck and Pyramus toward the least populated path. The late afternoon sun is so glaring that she's forced to slip on a pair of sunglasses, but the sight of Pyramus, bouncing around energetically in front of them, is pleasantly distracting.

Chuck smiles widely, holding onto the leash with one hand and Sarah's hand with the other. He's forgotten how good it feels to hear her laugh. Testing the leash's limits, Pyramus runs down the path, stops, and sprints back to them. He jumps up on Sarah, barking appreciatively when she scratches behind his ears.

"So," Sarah begins cautiously, "when did you start coming here?"

He sighs. "Well, we adopted Peaches from here." His brow furrows as he adds, "And I suppose Peaches II." Seeing him begin to withdraw, she gives his hand a squeeze and he comes back to the present. "But anyways," he continues, smiling at her, "after our mom left, Ellie decided that it'd be a good idea for us to spend more time together. So we started volunteering here."

Sarah's quiet for a moment, unsure of how to react to the mention of his mother. Pyramus gets riled as they pass a Jack Russell Terrier and a volunteer walking the opposite direction. As soon as the dog calms down, she says, "I'm glad you have her, that she's been there for you."

He doesn't meet her eyes, instead looking around at the park, eyeing the trees and benches and trying to ignore the apprehensive feeling growing in his chest. "Yeah. I'm really lucky to have her as a sister. I don't think I would have made it through everything – Mom, Dad, Stanford – without her help."

"It must be nice," she muses, "to have such a good support system."

Chuck stops walking and turns to face her, encircling her waist with one arm. He whispers, "If you let me, I can be yours."

She reaches up to cup his ear, her fingertips twirling his curls. Taking her reaction as acquiescence, he leans in for a kiss, a smile on his face. With a sigh, she reluctantly places her other hand on his chest and stops him from moving closer.

His head downcast and a sheepish smile on his lips, he pulls away. "I'm sorry," he says quietly.

"No, it's all right," she assures him. "It's just . . . I need to tell you some things before . . ." She trails off.

He raises his eyebrows. "Before?"

She brings her gaze back to meet his. "Before you decide to love me."

Knowing that it'll only distress her further, he refrains from telling her that it's too late, that they passed that stage long ago. Instead, he nods and silently gestures that they should resume walking. Except Pyramus, bored with their inactivity, has circled around them numerous times. As Chuck tries to take a step, his movement is restricted by the leash wrapped around their legs. Sarah lets out a cry as she and Chuck go crashing to the pavement. Pyramus yelps and dashes out of the way.

Sarah lands on top of Chuck, almost rolling over his shoulder. He has no idea how he's maneuvered, but somehow he's landed on his back. He winces as he hits the ground and a stunning jolt passes through his body. The pain is soon forgotten, however, in the light of Sarah's ringing laughter.

"Pyramus!" she cries, beckoning the dog to her while struggling to sit up. "You sneaky dog, get over here!" Sensing the playful tone in her voice, Pyramus obeys and is rewarded with a vigorous petting from Sarah, who has managed to sit up and is currently straddling Chuck's supine form.

Chuck glances amusedly from the dog to the woman on top of him. He lifts an eyebrow. "Uh, Sarah?"

She glances at him with a smile, as if suddenly remembering him. "Oh! Sorry," she says sheepishly.

Laughing, she disentangles their legs from the leash and rolls off of him, sitting up on the pavement. Chuck stands, brushes off his pants, and reaches down a hand to help her up. She takes it gladly, marveling at how they can be so serious one moment and so ridiculous the next. Despite the fight that Pyramus puts up, Chuck gets the leash straightened out. They latch hands again and continue walking.

Calming down, she asks, "So where were we?"

He groans. "I believe we were about to be serious."

She hates that the smallest things can remind her of their seemingly impossible situation. She sighs, "Oh, yeah."

He glances at her. "Does this have anything to do with what happened at the game this afternoon?"

Ah, yes. She'd been wondering when he was going to bring it up. "About that –"

"You know what?" he interrupts, shrugging his shoulders. "It's no big deal. I can forget I ever heard it." He passes his hand, the leash wrapped around his palm, in front of his eyes. "Totally gone. Weird. It's like this afternoon just never happened. I don't remember it at all."

She chuckles. "I hope you haven't lost _every_ memory of me."

He turns to smile at her. "Oh, no. Just the incriminating ones."

"Of course," she agrees with a smirk, but her flippant expression quickly fades. "But really, Chuck, there are some things, besides my real name, that you need to know."

He considers this for a moment before cautiously asking, "Like?"

She latches onto his arm with her free hand. "Like where I was last night."

He stops in his tracks, a look of shock on his face, and resumes walking only when her momentum jerks him forward. "Whe, where were you?" he stutters.

She tilts her head to the side, choosing her words carefully. "I was in Arizona tracking down Bryce."

He starts. "Bryce?" Shaking his head confusedly, he continues, "Hold on. He just left. Why would you want to track him down again?"

A smile tugs at her lips. "I wasn't kidding when I told you I was going to kick his ass."

"Weren't you the one telling me we should all get along?" he chuckles.

Her half-smile turns into a full blown grimace. "That was before he blew the whistle on our relationship to Graham."

Chuck scowls. Then he smiles. "Wait. We have a relationship to blow a whistle _on_? I wasn't aware one could tattle on something so undefined."

"Chuck, come on. This is serious," she chastises, unable to keep the worry out of her tone.

"You're right. I'm sorry," he apologizes sincerely, squeezing her hand.

She turns her head away to hide the tear in her eye. She's too preoccupied to notice the scenery, but Chuck's touch is reassuring.

"Hey," he says gently. "What does this mean for us?"

Breathing deeply and blinking away the tears, she answers calmly, "It means I'm being reassigned."


	7. Surreptitious Savior

A/N: Thanks to all those who helped me with a very important plot point.

Hope this makes up for February Air, you whiners. :P

* * *

Sarah's grip on the wheel never relaxes during the entire ride to Chuck's apartment. Slumped in the passenger's seat, sulking, he's barely said a word since she mentioned her reassignment. She wants more than anything to assure him that everything's going to work out. But truth be told, she has no idea what's going to happen, and that unknown scares her more than anything.

When she pulls into a parking space, he's out of the car before she can shift it into park. Cursing under her breath, she follows him at a jog and catches up with him in the courtyard.

"Chuck, please, say something," she entreats.

He stops walking and turns to face her. The fire in his eyes floors her. "What's there to say?"

Suddenly to exhausted and depressed to argue, she can't find the words to defend herself. She shakes her head and tells him, "You don't understand."

Her pathetic excuse sets him off. "No, I do understand! I understand that you don't give a damn about saving us." He pauses, collecting his thoughts. "I have seen you stare torturers in the eye without even breaking a sweat. I've seen you try to diffuse a bomb without any thought about your own safety. I've seen you risk your life countless times to save others'." He looks her directly in the eye. "I never thought I'd see the day when you gave up on what we have, on what we could be."

He stops talking, gazing at her intently. His words cut deeper than she would like.

"Dammit, Chuck!" she shouts. "What do you want me to do?" As soon as the words roll off her tongue, she realizes she's said the wrong thing.

He clenches his jaw as if he's biting his tongue. Then, his eyes dark, he whips around and disappears into the apartment. Bereft, she stands frozen for a moment before regaining her composure. Still staring at the closed door, she takes out her cell phone, pretending that Chuck's words aren't the catalyst for this call.

After going through the proper networks and codes, he answers on the second ring.

"Graham," he greets coldly.

She inhales slowly. "Sir, this is Agent Walker."

"Walker," he growls. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused?"

She closes her eyes, gathering her courage. "With all due respect, sir, I've been doing my job."

"Under which part of your job description does compromising yourself with your asset fall?"

She inhales slowly, trying to control her raging emotions. "He trusts me. We work well together as a team. You take me away, and he won't cooperate."

"Then he will be made to cooperate."

She rubs her forehead angrily and starts to pace around the courtyard. "I think you underestimate Chuck."

"I think I overestimated you," he snarls.

Stopping in her tracks, she swallows and absorbs the full force of the blow. "I'm asking you, sir," she pleads, distress audible in her voice. "Please don't do this."

"You no longer have the privilege of asking me for favors. I expect that, by the briefing tonight, you will have forgotten this nonsense."

He hangs up before she can get another protest out of her mouth. In a sudden burst of fury, she snaps the phone shut and launches it across the courtyard. It lands with a smash against the wall of an apartment and splinters into pieces. She sinks onto her knees, her head in her hands.

* * *

Chuck paces frantically in his room. He has no idea what he's doing or how to do what he's doing. All he knows is that he needs to do everything in his power to save this. He had sat back and allowed Jill to break his heart, but there's no chance he's going to let Sarah slip through his fingers.

Ten minutes of frenzied dialing, lying, and wheedling yields a surprising but ultimately desirable result. He's too preoccupied to understand how he makes it through, too off balance that he won't be able to tell the story in detail later on. But he will be able to remember how furiously his heart thumps as the Director of the CIA answers the phone with a grunt.

"Sir? Director, sir, it's Chuck Bartowski," he stammers nervously.

"You think I didn't know that five minutes before you actually got through? Cut to the chase, Bartowski."

"Right, right. You see, the thing is, you can't reassign Sarah."

"Oh? And you're under the impression that I should take directions from you why exactly?"

"Oh, no, sir! I'm not trying to tell you what to do. I just –"

"Then what do you call it?"

Chuck hesitates. "I'm just trying to make you see reason, sir."

"You're saying that I'm unreasonable?"

"No, of course not!" Chuck squeezes his eyes shut, feeling a sudden, intense hatred for this man. With a sigh, he continues, "All I'm saying is that she – and Casey, of course – and I, we just work well together, and it'd be a shame to split up the team. The CIA would not benefit from her reassignment."

Graham sighs impatiently. "Are you quite finished, Bartowski?"

Anger flares up in Chuck. In a hardened voice, he says, "No. You know what, I'm not finished. I should make myself clearer, Director." He spits out the title, making sure that Graham does not take it as a compliment. "If we lose Sarah, then you lose a functioning Intersect."

"Excuse me?"

"I think you heard me. Despite the fact that you deemed it worthless to train me, I picked up a thing or two from Sarah and Casey. I don't ask for a lot, but if she leaves, I'll make sure you never find me again. The Intersect will be lost to you."

"Are you aware of whom you're threatening, Bartowski?"

"Yeah," Chuck says. "Yeah, I am." He takes a breath, rubbing his forehead. "And I'm not sure if you know this, but I'm pretty good with computers. Excellent, in fact." He hesitates. What the hell is he doing exactly? "With my computer skills and my Intersect knowledge, I can create a virus that's able to take down the CIA's entire computer system within 24 hours. I don't think you want that to happen." He tightens his mouth into a thin line, hardening his heart as well.

After a pause thick with tension, Graham says, "There's no need for that, Mr. Bartowski."

Chuck's eyes widen. He hadn't really expected that to work. He clears his throat. "I'm glad we could work this out like adults."

Graham growls. "Yes, well, don't expect things to stay as they are either."

Chuck has no idea what that means, but he replies, "Of course not, sir."

"Goodnight, Bartowski."

The call goes dead before Chuck can respond. He takes the phone away from his ear and stares at it. He gulps, wondering what he's gotten himself into.

* * *

Sarah glances up as the door across the courtyard opens. Casey stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame, a tense look on his face. He beckons to her. She rises slowly, dusts off her jeans, and walks stiffly toward his apartment.

As he steps aside to let her in, he asks, "What's wrong with you, Walker? You look like someone just killed your puppy." He shuffles her into the kitchen, grabs two glasses, and pours them each a scotch.

She frowns, accepting the offered drink. What's the use in hiding the truth from him? He'll be informed at the briefing anyway. "I'm being reassigned," she admits softly.

Casey chokes on his scotch. "What? Why?"

She swirls the liquid around in her glass. "Bryce told Graham about –" She falters, collecting herself with a shaky breath. "- about my feelings for Chuck."

Casey's eyes bug out. "That little bastard," he says heatedly. "Where is he? Let me take care of him. I'll teach him what to expect when he messes with Team Chuck."

She smiles sadly at his protectiveness. "I've already done that. He won't bother us any more." She takes a sip, the liquid burning her throat, and adds, "But the damage is already done."

"Is that what this meeting is about?" He swallows, looking vaguely sick.

"Yeah," she nods. "You'll be introduced to my replacement. I'm pretty sure I have to stay until he or she gets integrated into life out here, but it shouldn't be more than a few days."

Casey stares at her. She knows he wants to say more, but she's also well-aware of his reputation for being cold and unemotional. So it's up to her to say what he's not saying.

"You've been a good partner to me, Casey, and an even better friend." She offers him a smile. "I don't know how I can repay you."

"I do," he grimaces.

She narrows her eyes, silently challenging him.

He looks at her intently. "They won't allow a relationship because of your difference in status. So the answer is to change that."

Her expression betrays her confusion, and she takes another drink.

"Look," he sighs, "they know we're a good team, but your relationship with Chuck is too unstable right now. What you have to do is make it so they absolutely can't benefit from splitting you up."

"Are you telling me to do what I think you are?" she asks with admiration.

He grins. "I don't know. You think you have the guts, CIA?"

Returning his smile, she answers, "You know I do. But are you going to be okay with this?"

"Yeah," he nods, "Chuck deserves this."

Half-an-hour later, Sarah and Casey stand shoulder-to-shoulder in his living room in front of his flatscreen. The clock strikes 7:00.

The screen flickers on, and Sarah doesn't let either of their superiors get a word in before she plunges in and says, "I want you to train him."

Beckman looks taken aback at her audacity.

Graham turns a steely gaze to her. "Excuse me?"

She takes a breath, summoning her courage. "Sir, under Part Seven, Article 3, Section 713 of the code, I'd like to formally petition the CIA to consider Charles Bartowski as a recruit."

The higher-ups are speechless.

"It's in the handbook," she explains unnecessarily. "Agents are allowed to refer others to the recruiting process."

"I'm well aware of that little regulation, Agent Walker."

He pinches the bridge of his nose, looking irritated. Opening his eyes, he looks at Beckman, who shakes her head almost imperceptibly as if to say, "Don't look at me. This is a CIA matter."

Graham purses his lips, staring at Sarah. Unflinching, she holds his gaze.

Finally, he says, "I'll consider your petition, Walker, and get back to you in a week's time."

Casey scoffs.

All three turn to look at him.

"Do you have something to say, Major?" General Beckman asks, her eyebrows raised.

He looks up, his mouth a grim line. "Yes, ma'am. If this is what serving my country has come to, then I'm ashamed to call myself an agent of the National Security Agency. Charles Bartowski is a great man. He's done everything you've asked him to, with minimal complaint and without formal training. He's gone above and beyond the call of duty, and you are treating him like he's a threat. If he were any other man, it would take you seven minutes to come to your decision, not seven days. I believe you're overlooking –"

"Do not tell us what we're overlooking, Major Casey," Beckman cuts him off.

Casey falls silent, his gaze downcast but his jaw clenched. Sarah is stunned but touched at his outburst. The superiors do not look amused.

Beckman inquires, "Are you quite finished?"

He nods. "Yes, ma'am."

"Now," Graham clears his throat, "to get back to the matter at hand."

Sarah's heart drops. She's in disbelief that they're still reassigning her. She and Casey had been so sure this would work.

"We're holding off on your reassignment, Walker. In the light of new evidence, we reevaluated, and we think it'd be prudent to keep your team together."

Sarah feels lightheaded, but whether from relief or shock, she's not sure. Casey surreptitiously slides a hand to her lower back to steady her.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir, ma'am," Casey replies for both of them, inclining his head at each of them in turn. "We appreciate your confidence in us."

"Don't let it affect your performance," Beckman advices coldly.

"No, ma'am. We won't."

With that, the screen goes black. Sarah collapses onto the couch.

She takes a moment to recover, then turns to him and begins gratefully, "Casey . . ."

The edges of his mouth turn upwards. "Save it, Walker. Out of all the people on the planet, you and Bartowski are two that deserve happiness the most."

She smiles sadly. "You know what this means, don't you?"

"One of two things: he becomes a spy, or you and I get canned for insubordination."

She relaxes against the sofa, turning that over in her mind. They're in this together. Casey had as good as said that. But she'd never forgive herself if he lost his job over this.

He takes a seat next to her with a sigh, and she chuckles because he sits a foot away.

Then she remembers something Graham said.

She looks over at her partner. "What do you think he meant by 'new evidence'?"

Casey's eyes narrow suspiciously, his expression turning pensive. He looks at her, and she can see the accusation in his gaze.

"No," she says, shaking her head. "You don't think . . . How could he have even gotten through?"

Casey shrugs. "He's resourceful."

She rolls her eyes and mumbles, "Oh my God." Her mouth tightens. "I can't believe he went behind my back."

"Walker, calm down," he warns.

"No," she argues, jumping up from the couch, "He had no right to do that."

Casey can't stop her, because she's already out the door and storming over to Chuck's apartment. She doesn't even bother going to the front door and knocking. Instead, she bursts through his window.

He's lounging on his bed reading a book, but the intrusion makes him look up, startled.

"Sarah, what are you –"

"What did you do?" she accuses harshly. He stares wordlessly at her, baffled by her vehemence. "What did you _do_?"

Chuckling feebly, he asks, "What are you talking about?"

"Graham just redacted my reassignation order. He shut me down when I went to him, so what the hell changed his mind in the past hour?"

Chuck's expression turns irate, brows drawn over his eyes. "I'm sorry if I fail to see the problem here. I was just doing what I thought was best for us, best for the team, since apparently no one considers how I'm going to react to all this."

She scowls. "You should have followed my lead."

"What? Let you get reassigned? And pretend to not care that we'd never see each other again?"

"It was my decision," she fumes.

"Well, it was a lousy one!" Frustrated, he turns his back to her. His shoulders heave. Does she mean that she _wants_ to be reassigned, that she _wants_ to leave? The thought cuts through him. He recollects himself with a deep breath and says more calmly, "All my life I sat back and watched the people I loved leave." He turns around, looking at her meaningfully. "I don't think I'd forgive myself if I watched you walk away from this. And I think somewhere down the line, you'd regret not giving us a chance."

She stares at him, flabbergasted by his boldness. Eventually she manages to force out, "What do you want me to do, Chuck?"

"I want you to quit running from us. I know you're afraid, but that's okay. I'm afraid, too! No, we're not a sure thing. And no, I don't know what our lives are going to be like ten years from now. One thing I do know is this: if you walk away now, we'll both lose what could be our only opportunity to experience something like this."

He takes a step closer to her, reaching his hand out hesitantly. Rethinking his actions, he stops and sits down on the bed. It won't do to push her when she doesn't want to be pushed.

With a sigh, she falls onto the bed beside him, scooting closer to him and leaning her head against his shoulder.

"You always seem to know exactly what I'm thinking," she says quietly.

He stays silent, but enfolds her in his arms.

"I kind of hate that," she admits.

He chuckles, secretly happy that he can affect her so much.

She snuggles further into him, fiddling with the bottom of his USA Softball t-shirt. "You're not supposed to know me so well."

Chuck places a kiss on the top of her head. She pulls away to look at him.

"Don't you have anything to say?" she asks with a smile. He always has something to say.

He thinks for a moment, then, deciding that they've wasted so many words already, shakes his head.

"You don't want to talk about this?"

His eyes gleam as he responds, "There'll be plenty of time to talk tomorrow."

She doesn't miss the meaning behind his words. A smile on his face, he continues to look at her, questioning her silently. She gives him a small nod, strangely aware of how quickly her heart's beating. He brushes back her hair, his fingers getting buried in the blond strands.

Once she realizes that he's giving her the lead, she leaps at it, capturing his lips gently and trying to tell him with a simple kiss everything she can't say in words. His hands roam over her back, finally settling on her hips, and she's surprised that she'd forgotten how tender his touch is.

The kiss grows more fervent, her hands tangle in his hair, and she's sure this isn't what Graham intended when he decided to keep the team together. But it's hard to care as Chuck lifts her off the bed and onto his lap. She smiles against his mouth and then helps him strip off his shirt.

The skin-on-skin contact is all the assurance she needs. It's a tangible connection, reminding her that everything she deserves is right here in this moment.


	8. Unspoken Understanding

A/N: So, we're in the home stretch now: one more chapter and an epilogue to go. But this is my last chapter before I go back to school, so hopefully I'll be able to finish this story in a timely fashion.

Also, don't forget to vote for the angst competition starting Monday, August 25th!

* * *

Chuck leans his shoulders against his headboard, one arm stretched above his sleeping companion. He lays his hand on top of hers, stroking his thumb over her loosely closed hand. A smile creeps onto his face as he stares at her in the early morning light. The sight of her is mesmerizing, and his heart aches to wake up to it each day.

But he also recognizes the distinct possibility that she will wake up and deem this a mistake. He knows he won't be able to handle that, especially not after the past few days. He can't fight the urge to memorize her every feature. Their time feels so limited, and he wants to have a reminder in case she decides to push him away.

She's breathing softly, a snore escaping every once in a while. She stirs, and he stops breathing, not wanting to wake her up. But she slowly returns to consciousness, blinking her eyes open. He watches tensely as she recognizes her surroundings and turns on her other side to face him.

She rubs her eyes and looks up at him, smiling shyly. Clutching the sheets more tightly around her, she mumbles sleepily, "Hey."

Seeing her expression, he can't help but return her smile. "'Morning," he says softly.

Far from being dismayed at the situation, Sarah feels liberated. She's been fighting her feelings for so long that having him know what he means to her is like starting over with a new lease on life. And she feels so warm, so comfortable in his bed.

Waiting for her to speak, Chuck feels a tightening in his chest. The next few moments could destroy every dream he has for their future.

But she just shifts into him, snuggling her head into his chest, and says, "Let's sleep in."

He smiles, able to breathe again. "I'm not tired," he replies.

She groans. "Fine. _I'll_ sleep in, and you can make me breakfast."

He chuckles, "Who knew you were so demanding?" He places a kiss on her forehead. "I'm going to go shower, but then I'll make breakfast. Promise."

She smiles, and he takes that as acquiescence. He throws on his boxer shorts and leaves the room, glancing back over his shoulder at her peacefully sleeping form. Fifteen minutes later, he returns to his bedroom, a towel wrapped around his waist.

Moving quietly so as not to disturb her, he shuts the door and crosses to his dresser. He opens a drawer, locates a pair of clean jeans, and pulls them on as ambles over to the closet. Rummaging through his shirts, he tries to find one that he knows she likes.

"Wear the green striped button-down," she advises.

Shaking his head with a smile, he turns his head to look at her, only to find that she's facing away from him, apparently with her eyes still closed.

"How'd you know what I was doing?" he asks.

She laughs into a pillow. "I'm magic."

"That explains it," he teases, tossing on the shirt and walking over to the bed.

He sits down on the mattress, buttoning up his shirt. Sarah sits up with a yawn, holding the covers around her, and turns to face him.

"I suppose I should get up now," she says, leaning over to help him with his buttons.

He keeps silent, smiling as he watches her. Her gaze flickers upward, but she blushes and returns to her task as soon as she meets his eyes. Finishing the last button, she straightens his collar and pats her hand against his chest.

"There," she pronounces quietly. "Perfect."

Chuck leans his forehead against hers, and an unspoken agreement passes between them.

"What do you want for breakfast?" he asks.

"Mmm," she murmurs. "Pancakes?"

He laughs, moving away. "Coming right up."

Their hands linger together as he rises from the bed.

"Mind if I take a shower?" inquires Sarah.

"Nope," he responds, enjoying the morning routine. "There are towels in the bathroom cupboard. I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything."

He walks into the hallway, a spring in his step; she watches him go, her heart light.

* * *

Sarah waltzes cheerfully down the hallway, wearing her jeans and one of Chuck's t-shirts that features a floppy disc that reads, "My Entire Life." She had picked it because it smelled the most like him. She runs a hand through her damp hair as she enters the kitchen, but she stops short when, instead of Chuck, she sees Ellie sitting at the counter eating cereal.

"Oh, good morning, Ellie," she says, hiding her disappointment at not seeing Chuck.

Ellie looks at her, but her smile is somewhat strained. "'Morning, Sarah. Chuck just ran out for some eggs. He should be back in a few minutes." She rises and grabs a glass from a cupboard. "Want some orange juice?"

Sarah nods and slides onto a chair. Ellie pours the orange juice, narrowing her gaze while trying not to let her notice.

"Is that Chuck's shirt?" she asks.

Sarah glances down, her cheeks reddening. "Oh, ye-yeah, it is," she stutters.

The corners of Ellie's mouth twitch upwards as she slides the glass onto the counter and takes a seat next to Sarah, who takes the juice appreciatively.

"Listen," Ellie begins, "I'm sorry about the other night. I shouldn't have pried into your relationship."

Sarah listens, taking a sip, then replies, "No, Ellie, you were right. I wasn't being fair to Chuck." She stops, unsure of how to explain. Ellie is quiet as she searches for the words. "The truth is, I'm not the best at relationships. It's hard for me to trust people." She looks directly at Ellie. "But your brother has been so patient with me." She sighs. "I'm not sure he knows how grateful I am for that."

Ellie smiles. "He's a great guy. I'm just glad he's finally found someone who makes him happy."

Before Sarah can answer, the living room door opens and Chuck walks through carrying a grocery bag. She leans toward Ellie and whispers, "It goes both ways."

Ellie laughs and looks at her brother. "Hey, Chuck!"

"Hello. What are you girls up to?" he says happily, coming into the kitchen.

His sister smiles enigmatically. "Just chatting. What are you up to today?"

Setting the eggs on the counter, Chuck looks over at Sarah. "I don't know. We didn't really have anything planned."

"You could always go to the beach," she suggests as she gets up and puts her bowl and spoon in the dishwasher.

"Yeah, maybe," he says. "But first I have to make pancakes for this one over here, who doesn't know her way around the kitchen."

Sarah chuckles. "Hey, I made you bacon and eggs yesterday, and they were –"

"Edible," Chuck cuts in with a smile.

Sarah sticks her tongue out at him playfully.

Ellie shakes her head amusedly at their antics and says, "Well, I have to get to work. You guys have fun. Sarah, dinner tomorrow?" She looks expectantly at the blonde.

Sarah smiles. "Sounds great. I'll be here."

"Excellent. See you guys."

"Bye," Chuck says, watching his sister leave. He turns back to Sarah and quirks a smile. "Chocolate chips?"

"Definitely."

She watches as he assembles the ingredients on the counter and begins mixing the batter. His movements are surprisingly lithe and graceful, and she realizes that she could do this every day – wake up next to him and relax over breakfast. Over the past day or two, her priorities have changed. Chuck has become her number one concern. He has been for a long time, but she can finally admit it to herself. The thought is a lot less scary that she imagined it would be.

She finally understands that she and Chuck are in this together, 'til the end.

Rising from her chair, she crosses the room to where he's standing over the stove. She snakes her arms around his waist and leans her head against his back, feeling him breathe in deeply.

"I love you," she murmurs into his shoulder. Immediately, she feels a weight lift off her heart. She's been keeping it inside for so long that it was becoming oppressive.

He stops and swivels to face her, wrapping one arm around her back. Gazing at her, he questions, "You mean it?"

"Yeah," she smiles. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't."

Inclining his head, he gives her a short kiss on the lips. "So what's this mean for us?"

"I guess it means we give this thing a shot."

His eyebrows shoot up in delight. "Really?"

She thinks for a moment, then shrugs. "Yeah. I mean, Graham and Beckman won't be happy about it, but I'm sure we can convince them somehow. And it's not unheard of for two agents to become a real couple even while working together."

"Wait," he says, perplexed. "You said two agents. But what about an agent and an asset?"

"Oh," she swallows, averting her gaze.

He brings a hand up to cup her face and asks softly, "What are you not telling me?"

Irrationally nervous, she looks up at him. After a tense moment, she admits, "I kind of . . . requested that you be considered as a recruit for the CIA."

His expression is a mixture of shock and confusion. He searches her eyes before asking, "What does that mean?"

"It means they're going to consider you as an agent instead of merely the Intersect. Graham said he'll have his decision by next week."

Flabbergasted, he doesn't say a word.

"Come on, Chuck," she urges. "Please say something."

He stammers unintelligibly, then sputters, "You did that for me? For us?'

Relieved, she smiles. "Of course."

He looks her in the eye. "You fought for us," he states.

Not trusting herself to speak, she simply nods. She barely has time to register his elated smile before his lips crash into hers. Giving herself over to the kiss, she runs one hand up his chest and grabs his collar to pull him even closer.

"Chuck," she says breathlessly as she breaks away, her eyes still closed.

"Yeah?"

"I think the pancake's burning."

His eyes fly open and he turns back to the stove, snatching the spatula off the counter.

"Damn," he mutters as he tries to salvage the pancake.

The scowl on his face is priceless, and she bursts out laughing. He throws the blackened cake onto a plate and purses his lips at her.

"You think that's funny, do you?" he asks, trying futilely to keep the smile off his face. "It won't be as funny when that's your breakfast."

The threat only causes her to laugh harder, and his laughter mingles with hers. Soon, she's shrieking as he comes toward her with wiggling fingers, tickling her stomach. She wraps her arms around her stomach and turns her back to him in an effort to fend him off, but he bear hugs her. The added weight throws her off balance and they tumble onto the kitchen floor, both howling with laughter.

* * *

Sarah collapses onto her bed, exhausted from her shift at the Weinerlicious. She hadn't wanted to go, but after calling off the previous day to go after Bryce, she didn't feel like it'd be fair to call off a second day in a row. Truthfully, now that she and Chuck have come to an unspoken agreement regarding their relationship, she wants to spend every minute with him. She chastises herself for feeling like a love-struck schoolgirl, but lights up when the _James Bond_ theme song, Chuck's distinct ringtone, sounds.

She reaches for the phone and flips it open. "Hello?"

"Hey," he says. "I was wondering, could you come down?"

"What?" she asks, letting out a small chuckle.

"Um, I'm kind of not allowed upstairs."

Her chuckle turns into a full-fledged laugh. "Are you kidding me? Why not?"

"Will you just trust me?" he asks snappily, but she can hear the smile in his voice.

"Fine. Give me three minutes."

* * *

Chuck waits anxiously outside of the hotel building, hoping fervently that this will go well. His worry melts away as she appears. He rises from the low stone wall he's sitting on and walks toward her.

"Pyramus!" she shouts with delight.

The dog jumps up on her, barking happily, and he receives an affectionate petting in response.

"Hey, boy. How are you?" she says in a voice that's dangerously close to baby-talk.

Chuck grins.

Pyramus settles down, and Sarah looks up at Chuck.

"What are you doing here?" she asks. "I mean, I'm glad you came. But why'd you bring Pyramus?"

"I adopted him."

She steps closer to him and laughs. "Chuck! You do realize that your apartment doesn't allow pets, right?" Running a hand through his curls, she shakes her head in amusement, still smiling. "You didn't think this through at all, did you?"

"Oh, yeah," he assures her, "I thought it through. At least up until the point where I ask you to move in with me."

Her expression goes blank and she takes a step backward. "What?"

Dismayed at her reaction, he swallows nervously. He had imagined this going so differently. She would jump into his arms, maybe, and they'd spend a few weeks apartment hunting, finally settling down into their new life.

"Just . . . say you'll think about it, all right?" he pleads.

She averts her gaze. "Chuck, I don't know . . ."

"Please, Sarah." He's not going to sit back and watch her run away from them again. He takes her hands in his, reassured when she doesn't pull away. "I grew up hanging out with Ellie, and if you were anything like the girls I knew growing up, you visualized what your life would be like. All I'm asking for is a chance to give you that life." He leans his forehead against hers. "I want you to have everything you ever dreamed about."

Sarah reaches a hand up around his neck and pulls him in for a kiss. A smile appears on his face when they break apart.

"No one's ever cared for me so much," she admits. "I don't think I've ever let anyone."

"Well, maybe you should get used to it. Because I'll never stop caring for you. I promise."

Her eyes sparkle with tears. "I have the morning shift tomorrow. Want to look for apartments after work?"

He grins and says, "You bet," before leaning in for another kiss.


	9. Unconventional

A big thanks to **BillAtWork** for helping with this chapter!

* * *

Sarah and Chuck walk hand-in-hand, following Amber the landlady as she leads them through the empty apartment. It's certainly large enough, with three bedrooms, two baths, a kitchen, and living and dining rooms. And Chuck likes it because it's only a few minutes away from Ellie and Awesome.

"Do you allow pets?" Chuck asks eagerly.

"Of course," Amber replies warmly. "As long as they're properly cared for. May I ask what kind of pet you own?"

She's in her late-40s, short hair going gray around the temples. She hasn't stopped smiling since they met her, and Sarah can see them forming an easy, comfortable friendship if they end up taking this apartment.

With a grin, he says, "A Shepherd-Husky mix. His name's Pyramus."

"Oh, he sounds adorable."

Sarah listens to the conversation absently, glancing around the apartment. As she cranes her neck to peek down the hallway, her cell phone rings. She fishes her phone out of her purse and looks at the caller ID.

With an apologetic smile, she looks at Chuck and says, "I'm sorry, sweetie. I really need to get this."

"No, sure. Go ahead."

"Thanks. I'll be right outside. You just keep looking around, all right?"

He nods, and she walks outside, inhaling deeply as she walks into the fresh air.

Knowing that their future hangs on the outcome of this call, she tries to keep her hands from shaking as she opens her phone. "Walker."

"Agent Walker," Graham says in a low voice, "I've come to my decision."

She swallows, afraid of what comes next.

"He's proven himself useful in the field," he admits reluctantly. He heaves a great sigh before continuing. "But with his skills, we feel he would be better suited in a traditional analyst position."

He stops, and she knows he's waiting for a response, but she won't give him the satisfaction.

"I assume you know what this means," he rumbles.

"I do, sir," she answers, breathing a bit more freely.

"And I also assume you'll be applying for permanent placements."

"Yes. Here in Los Angeles."

She hears a steady hiss as he slowly exhales. "You're a great agent, Walker, one of our best. I want to keep you happy. But I hope you understand that I'm making a lot of concessions for this to happen. I don't like losing you as a field agent."

"I do understand that, and I appreciate it, sir. But with all due respect, I've put in a lot of years deep uncover." She pauses, biting her lip, loathe to admit the state of her mental health to her boss. "It's taken a toll on me. I've finally met someone who accepts me for who I am and what I've done, and I think . . . I think we deserve a chance at a happy, if somewhat unconventional, life."

"Fine," he says. "I can identify with that. Get the paperwork in for the placement requests and have Chuck get back to me with his answer next week."

The line goes dead. She stands there stunned for a moment before breaking into a shy smile and returning to the apartment. Once back inside, she catches up with Chuck as he's looking around the master bedroom and links her hand with his.

"Sorry," she says.

"Everything all right?"

She nods, kisses his cheek to show him there's nothing to worry about.

Smiling, he returns to examining the room. "What do you think?"

"It's nice," she agrees somewhat absently. "Where's Amber?"

"In the kitchen. She wanted to give us some time to look over the place by ourselves and talk."

She detaches herself from him to meander around the edge of the room. He's rooted in the middle of the floor, following her with his eyes. Painted a deep shade of forest green, it's spacious, and her trained eye already has the room mentally set up: the bed situated between the windows, matching dressers against the opposite wall, maybe a wardrobe over by the door to the bathroom. Running her hand along the wall as she walks, she allows her mind to wander and draw up images of easy morning routines and quiet evening rendezvous.

"You like it?" he asks, a smile in his voice, drawing her from her reverie.

She stops walking and gazes at him, replying simply, "I love it."

"Me, too." But he says it with a sigh, shoving his hands into his jean pockets and letting his eyes roam over the room pensively, his mouth contorted in thought.

"What's up?" she inquires as she moves towards him.

He shrugs, not meeting her eyes. "Can we really afford this? It was kind of at the top of our price range anyway."

"I already told you, my salary is more than generous." She rolls her eyes. "One of the benefits of risking your life weekly, I guess."

He grimaces at her bad joke and responds, "I know, but I can't help but feel that I should be providing for you. I just wish my Buy More paycheck could help me do that."

"There will be other expenses, Chuck. Like food. A girl likes to eat, you know."

That garners a smile, however small. "But I want to really take care of you."

"Providing is about more than just money. Why can't you see how much you really do for me?" She takes a breath, leaving the question hang. She can't tell him right now that the CIA will soon be paying him almost as much as they pay her. He doesn't deserve to hear the news that way. "But tell me something. Do you like this place?"

He nods.

"Then I promise it'll all work out. Just trust me," she smiles.

He stares, not sure what to make of her promise.

"I promise," she emphasizes.

"Okay," he says, giving her a peck on the lips. "I trust you, Sarah."

* * *

"Hey, you and I have to talk," Sarah says, grabbing Chuck's hand as they wind their way through the courtyard to Ellie and Devon's apartment.

"We already got the apartment. What's there to talk about?" he asks with a cheeky grin.

"It's not about the apartment."

He stops and turns to face her, listening carefully. "What is it?"

Staring at him, she bites her lip. How does she break this news? She's not even sure he wants this. She leads him over to the fountain, and they sit on the edge. Sarah lets her fingers dangle in the water, trying to ignore Chuck's attentive eyes on her face. Her other hand is still locked with Chuck's. She massages the back of his hand lightly with her thumb.

"Listen, Chuck," she begins softly, staring at their entwined hands. "I got a call from Graham today." He nods, putting together the pieces, and thankfully he doesn't feel the need to interrupt her. Because if she stops now, she thinks the words may never come out. Glancing up at him, she offers him a strained smile. "Well, long story short, he's offering you a position as an analyst. He wants your answer by next week."

Chuck is so stunned that he doesn't say anything for a moment. Sarah waits, impatiently squeezing his fingers.

"Will I still work with you and Casey?" he finally asks, and Sarah lets a breath out.

"You'll work with us until the Intersect problem gets resolved. Then you'll become a regular analyst, no supercomputer in your brain, and it'll just be you and me."

"How do you know?"

She tilts her head.

"How do you know that you'll be able to stay?" he clarifies. "Did Graham promise we could stay together?"

Smiling, she replies, "That's not his decision. It's mine."

"No, I know that," he says, looking as if he doesn't know that at all. He glances downward, unable to meet her eyes. "But can't he still reassign you?" He hates to put it so bluntly, but what use would joining the CIA be if she weren't by his side?

"Hey," she says, "look at me." She puts a hand on the bottom of his chin and tilts his head up, forcing him to look in her eyes. "We're in this together. I promised you that, and I'm not going to let you down. I –"

"Okay, Sarah?" he questions, cupping her face as he cuts her off.

She shuts her mouth immediately, worried that she's scaring him off.

"Sarah, you're talking like this is a business deal." It's an accusation, but his tone is sweetly persuasive. "But what about us?"

He asks it with a smile, one that grows bigger with each carefully-enunciated word.

She returns the smile, leaning closer to confess hesitantly, "I'm applying for permanent placements for us here in L.A."

"What does that mean?" The smile doesn't leave his face, simply changes form as he struggles to understand what she's telling him.

She takes a breath, and the words come spilling out of her mouth. "It means the CIA will recognize us as a couple and allow us to work together in one place for an extended amount of time."

"Are you kidding me?" he laughs. "That's amazing."

Wrapping her arms around his waist, she leans into him, her head on his shoulder. He slips an arm around her back, pulling her closer.

"Yeah, it is pretty amazing," she agrees.

"I can't believe we're really doing this."

"But we are," Sarah says softly. "We're starting a life. You and me."

He chuckles, kisses her hair. "Albeit a very unorthodox, very dangerous one."

* * *

Sarah waltzes lightly into the Buy More, feeling as if she owns the world. With Ellie, Awesome, and even Morgan's help, she and Chuck spent the weekend moving into their new apartment. She doesn't have many possessions in L.A. besides clothing, but the amount of books, video games, movies, and everything Chuck had to pack up and bring was absolutely staggering, especially since she's used to living on the scantest of resources.

But strolling down the center aisle toward the Nerd Herd desk, where her adorably geeky boyfriend awaits, Sarah recognizes the feeling of complete contentment.

Chuck looks up from his conversation with Morgan as she nears and immediately breaks into a grin. Morgan, on the other hand, colors, mutters something to Chuck, and scurries off into Home Appliances.

As she reaches the desk, she smirks and leans over for a kiss, pulling him in by his tie. "What was that about?" she asks between kisses.

He murmurs something incoherent against her mouth and places his hands on her waist, trying to shift her closer. But she's already pressed up against the counter.

She breaks away with a smile, running her hand up his chest. "Morgan ran away from me like I was the kid who always took his lunch money at school."

Chuck laughs and says, "He's still sulking because you handed him his ass in _Halo_ last night."

And suddenly he's kissing her again, a little too passionately for being in public.

"Hey, now," she says with a laugh after they come up for air. "What happened to your aversion to PDA? And it's not my fault Morgan wanted to help us break in the apartment."

Chuck pulls back to get a better look at her. "Wait. You said you were okay with him and Anna coming over."

"No, I was, I was," she assures him. "But between them coming yesterday, and Ellie and Devon coming over tonight, I really just want to spend a quiet evening alone with you." She's pretty sure she's begging, complete with a pathetic look on her face and a desperate tone in her voice, and Sarah Walker has never begged for anything in her life.

He chuckles. "Do you want me to ask Ellie and Awesome to come another night?"

Shaking her head, she replies, "That's all right. But tomorrow, just you and me, okay?"

"Gotcha."

"Promise?"

"Definitely," he breathes as he leans in for another kiss.

"Bartowski!"

Chuck jumps back, guilt written on his face, to face his boss.

"Hi, Big Mike," Sarah greets sheepishly.

Big Mike's standing a few feet away, carrying a Hot Pocket and a can of Coke. "You still have ten minutes left in your shift. Get back to work," he says and takes a bite of the Hot Pocket. As he walks away, he smiles amiably at her. "Nice to see you again, Sarah."

She nods, her lips tight to hold back her laughter. Leaning her head into his chest, she pulls on his tie, and they manage to not burst out laughing until Big Mike's out of hearing range.

Between gasps, Chuck chokes out, "All right, all right. I should get back to work."

"Fine." She gives him a peck on the lips. "I'll be in the appliance section."

"Great. I'll be done in ten minutes, I swear."

She turns to walk away, but he calls her back, tugging on her hand.

"Wait. Morgan's in Home Appliances. Maybe you could hang out somewhere else for a while?" he asks with a pleading smile.

She laughs and gives his hand a squeeze. "But honey, we really do need a toaster."

Chuck stares at her, trying to beseech her with his gaze.

She rolls her eyes. "I promise to be nice. I'll even let him sell me the most expensive one."

"Fine," he gives in with a laugh and raises his hands in a show of relinquishing fault. "But don't come complaining to me when he wants a rematch."

* * *

Chuck hovers over the kitchen table, an apron over his sweater and freshly-pressed khakis, chopping up vegetables and taking care to spare his fingers from severe injury. Sarah walks in, a gold necklace dangling from her hands as she puts earrings in.

"Can you help me with this?" she asks, holding the chain out towards him.

"Sure."

He sets down the knife, wipes his hands on a towel, and takes the necklace. She turns around, swiping her hair to the side as he clasps it around her neck. His fingers linger on her neck, and he slides his hands slowly down her body. His hands on her hips, he places a soft kiss on her neck. Stifling a gasp, she tilts her head toward the ceiling and reaches a hand back to thread her fingers through his hair. Tugging her blouse down over her arm, he traces a line of kisses down to her shoulder.

"God, Chuck," she says breathlessly, "what are you trying to do to me? We've got a videoconference with Graham in five minutes."

He groans in protest, but reluctantly loosens his grip. She turns to face him with a sigh, running a hand over his head.

"I think we have more important things to worry about right now," she says, trying to inject some seriousness into the situation.

"Like what?" he frowns petulantly.

She can't help but smile at his irreverence, but there's a sadness that shines through. "Like what we're going to say to my boss when he formally asks you to sell your soul."

"We _have_ discussed this," he insists, smiling and inclining his head for a proper kiss.

She stops him with a hand on his chest. But her willpower is weak, her hold not that strong, and he sneaks in kisses between her words. "But each time we have, we never seemed to get – much – talking – done."

"Sarah, look at me. I know the conditions we discussed, and with you by my side, there's no way I'm backing down."

His watch beeps the hour.

"Good," she smiled. "Because it's time."

Taking him by one hand, she pulls him into the living room. He struggles out of the apron on the way and throws it over an armchair. They settle on the middle of the couch in front of their brand-new HD TV, trying not to disturb Pyramus, curled up asleep on the last cushion.

Chuck takes a deep breath and runs hand through his hair. She glances over at him, gives his hand a squeeze just as the screen comes to life.

"Walker, Bartowski," Graham greets, inclining his head towards each in turn.

"Good evening, sir," Sarah says.

Chuck, clearing his throat, nods at the director. He's encouraged by the fact that Sarah didn't drop his hand as soon as Graham appeared.

"Did you think about my offer, Bartowski?" Graham asks.

"Yes, sir, I have thought it over," Chuck says slowly. "And I accept, but I have a few conditions."

His nostrils flaring, Graham exhales with the air of a man quickly losing patience.

"I want a guarantee that Sarah and I will be able to stay together."

"Walker's already taken care of that." He looks at her. "You understand that you'll no longer be a deep cover operative? And that once the Intersect business is resolved, missions will be few and far between?"

Chuck turns to Sarah, holding his breath.

She nods. "I do, sir."

And all of a sudden he can breathe again.

"Very well." Looking back at Chuck, he asks, an edgy note to his voice, "Anything else?"

Chuck raises his eyebrows. "A salary. I've been working for you for over a year now, and I think a little compensation is in order." He swallows, almost bewildered at his own audacity.

"That'll all be taken care of." Speaking to both of them, he says, "Since you'll have permanent placements, Agent Walker will need a better cover job. Once we sort out the details, we'll have a few options for you. As for you, Chuck, you can continue to stay at the Buy More."

"A-actually," he stammers, "I was considering taking a few classes and finishing up my degree. And then, well, I'm not quite sure where I'd go from there."

Graham nods. "Fine. As long as it doesn't get in the way of your new responsibilities."

"Of course not, sir."

"You'll need some training first, though. You begin next week. I'll get in touch with details. Any questions?"

Chuck and Sarah exchange a glance, then turn back to Graham.

"No, sir," Sarah answers for the both of them.

"Good. I'll be in touch soon." He hesitates before adding, "Good luck to both of you." He nods a farewell before they can respond, and the screen goes blank.

Chuck stares at the black TV monitor.

"I guess that's that," Sarah says, sounding relieved.

He nods, attempting to fathom how different his life will be from here on out. "Yep. The question is: what do we do now?"

Massaging his neck with one hand, she kisses his temple. "We make dinner. Because Ellie and Devon are going to be here in –" She grabs his wrist and looks at his watch. "-twenty-five minutes."

* * *

Not trusting Sarah in the kitchen, Chuck gives her the job of chopping vegetables and grating cheese. She quirks an eyebrow but wordlessly follows his instructions. He turns to the stove to begin cooking the taco meat.

After a few minutes spent cooking in comfortable silence, Chuck scoops some spiced meat out of the pan with a spoon and turns to Sarah.

"Hey, taste this," he urges with a smile, holding out the spoon.

She steps toward him and tastes the sample, her hand on his waist.

"Good?" he questions with raised eyebrows.

"Mmm," she responds with a nod, fanning her mouth because of the temperature, "it's good thing you can cook, because we'd starve if the cuisine were left up to me."

He laughs. "You just love me 'cause I feed you," he accuses teasingly.

She gives him a small kiss on the lips and turns away quickly. But before she does, he thinks he sees her brow furrow.

"Hey," he says, catching her by the hand. "What's the matter?"

She spins around slowly, runs a hand through her hair, and only meets his gaze intermittently. "I'm not the best at telling people how I feel," she admits reluctantly.

Tilting his head, he pulls her closer to him. "You think I'd want you to tell me you loved me if you weren't comfortable with it? Sarah . . . I'd never ask you to do something if you didn't feel entirely comfortable with it." He pauses, sliding his arms around her, and teases, "I don't need my ego stroked that much."

She stares at him, a smile tugging at her lips.

"You don't have to tell me until you're ready," he assures her. With a mischievous smirk, he adds, "But could you maybe tell me that you like me? Maybe even that you like-like me?"

Grinning, she smacks him playfully on the chest. "All right, if that's the way you want to play it. Charles Bartowski, I like-like you."

Leaning in for a kiss, he says in a low, guttural voice, "Good, because I can't live without you."

His lips crash against hers, and dinner is momentarily abandoned. She slides her arms around his neck, pulling him flush against her, and hopes he understands everything she's trying to tell him through this kiss. When he breaks away, the smile on his face tells her that he has.

"Thank you," she whispers, "for being patient. I hope you realize how much I care for you."

His smile widens. "I do, because you show me every day. I just want to make sure _you_ know that I love you more than anything in the world."

She nods before leaning in for another slow, lingering kiss.

"I do know," she assures him, "and you have no idea how lucky it makes me feel."

* * *

The doorbell rings right on cue. Barking happily, Pyramus bounds toward the door. Sarah glances up from setting the table, smoothes her shirt, and walks toward the door, throwing it open to reveal Chuck's beaming sister and her equally cheerful fiancé.

"Hi, Sarah!" Ellie greets effusively as she offers a bundle of purple daisies.

Sarah takes them with a smile, "Ellie, these are gorgeous. Thank you. Hi, Devon."

"Hey, Sarah," he booms before reaching down to pet Pyramus.

She's careful to hold the flowers out of crushing range as she hugs Ellie and Devon in turn.

Chuck springs out of the kitchen with a grin, coming forward to embrace his sister and soon-to-be brother-in-law.

"Hey, guys! I'm so glad you could make it."

Devon slaps him on the back. "Us, too, Chuckster." He raises an eyebrow approvingly at the living room set-up. "I love what you've done with the place. Is this thing High-Def?" he asks, indicating the television.

"Yep," Chuck answers, clearly proud of the immense home-entertainment area, including four video game systems, his entire DVD and game collection, and surround sound. "You want to check it out now or after dinner?"

"Oh, hey, after dinner, dude," Awesome answers, rubbing his stomach. "Let me help you in there. Tacos, right? I love tacos. In fact, I love everything about Me-hi-co!'"

As the boys move to retreat into the kitchen, Awesome rambling in his throaty baritone about his love of all things Mexican, Sarah stops Chuck by the arm.

"Hey, hon, will you grab me a vase, please?"

"Sure," he nods.

He follows Devon into the kitchen and returns a minute later with a fluted crystal vase filled with water.

"Thanks, Chuck."

"No problem." He gives her a swift kiss on the cheek before disappearing again.

"Let me help you with those," Ellie offers, a furtive smile on her face.

Sarah places the vase in the middle of the dining table. She's surprised at how comfortable she feels as they arrange the flowers in the vase.

"I just want you to know," Ellie begins, "that I think it's great that you and Chuck have worked everything out."

"Thanks," she responds, blushing slightly. "I'm really happy we have, too."

"And it's great that you're so close!" she squeals delightedly.

Sarah lets out a laugh.

Ellie continues earnestly, "If you ever need anything – no matter how small, how stupid it seems – you come right on over. All right?"

"Thanks, Ellie. I appreciate that."

Ellie beams, gushing, "I've never had a sister before."

Sarah blushes again and busies herself with putting out the silverware. Ellie takes her lead, setting out the glasses. Sarah can hear the guys' laughter from the kitchen, and she's suddenly aware of feeling like part of a family. She hasn't felt that in a long time. She hasn't been a girlfriend, hasn't been a sister, in too long.

Looking up at Ellie, she asks, "Hey, do you want to maybe get lunch sometime this week? Just the two of us?"

Ellie smiles widely. "Yeah, I'd like that."

The guys appear in the living room, Chuck carrying the taco shells and meat, Devon carrying the fillings. Sarah watches as Chuck sets his burden on the table, then snags him as he turns back to the kitchen. Her hand clutching a fistful of sweater, she pulls him down for a short kiss.

"I love our life," she whispers in his ear.

He looks astonished, but she pushes him gently away before he can recover. He stumbles back into the kitchen as she, Ellie, and Devon settle around the table. He returns with water glasses and a grin on his face. As he takes his seat across from her, an image of the rest of her life flashes in Sarah's mind.

And she smiles, because, although it's nothing like what she ever expected, it still manages to be perfect.


	10. Misunderstanding

A/N: I know this is a long time coming, but school's been busy. Thanks to those of you who've stuck with this story. :) I plan on finishing up with an epilogue, but that could always change, lol.

This chapter came from a suggestion from **BillAtWork**. So thank you.

* * *

Chuck sits at the bar, feigning interest in the football game being shown on the numerous televisions around the sports bar. Between the sportscasters, the noise of the game, and the cheers and boos of the crowd gathered in the restaurant, he feels the annoying beginnings of a headache.

"Havin' fun, Chuckster?" Devon booms over the din as he slaps him on the back and shoots him a ridiculously wide grin.

Chuck nods, trying to look excited about the game, and tosses a few peanuts into his mouth.

"Dude," Awesome continues, "we need to do guys' night more often! Hey, tell me, how's the semester going?"

Tuning out the outside noise, Chuck answers loudly, "It's going well. I'm really enjoying my classes, but it's tough getting all my schoolwork done when I have actual work to do."

"Why don't you quit the Buy More? Sarah seems to like her new job, and she makes good money. Let her support you for just a couple of months." He takes a sip of his beer. Chuck is pensive. "Let me tell you, Chuck. It seems tough now, but you stick this out together, and you'll be better than you ever were. It'll make you stronger as a couple." He punctuates his words by poking Chuck on the arm. With a shrug, he adds. "And that can never be bad, dude."

Chuck spins his beer bottle, staring at the rim of condensation it leaves on the bar with a dark expression. The advice would actually be good if he could trust in Sarah to take the lead in their relationship. Devon's eyes are turned toward the nearest television. But his gaze flickers over, and he lowers his beer.

"What's a matter? You're not having trouble at home, are you?"

Chuck sighs. "We've been living together for three months now, and she's still as emotionally distant as she ever was."

Devon purses his lips. "How do you mean, bro?"

Chuck takes a sip of beer before answering. Understandably, he's reluctant to admit this to his awesome soon-to-be brother-in-law. "For one thing, she's only told me she loves me once. And that was even before we moved in together."

"Whoa. Harsh."

There's a heavy pause during which the team Devon's rooting for scores, though he has the tact to not get distracted from their downer of a conversation.

Devon cocks an eyebrow. "So what are you going to do about that?"

Chuck almost chokes on a swig of beer. "Excuse me?"

"Well, I mean, what does she say when you tell her that you love her?"

"Um, well, she usually just says something like, 'Me, too,' but sometimes she just smiles and doesn't say anything. And sometimes she even turns away with this . . . closed-off look on her face." He lets out a breath and rests his head against his fist.

Devon exhales slowly, his eyes on the verge of bugging out. "That sucks, man," he intones. Turning to his friend, he says more brightly, "But look at it this way, she's already moved in with you, so you know she's not afraid to commit to you. Maybe she's just scared of what it'll mean when she actually says it out loud."

"Yeah, I suppose," Chuck agrees reluctantly. He and Sarah are due for a "define-the-relationship" conversation, but he's simply not up to it tonight. Because he can already see how she'll be evasive and withdrawn, and how his spirits will depress during the painful discussion.

"Sarah's not as open as you are, bro. Just give it some time," Awesome says reassuringly. "She'll come around."

* * *

Bringing her water glass to her mouth, Sarah snorts quietly as Ellie flirts outrageously with their waiter. He leaves to hand in their order, but not before shooting Ellie a dazzling smile.

"You're awful," Sarah accuses light-heartedly.

"Oh, it's just a little harmless flirting," Ellie replies with a grin. "Devon doesn't mind. It keeps the spark alive."

Sarah laughs. As reluctant as she'd be to admit this, she loves spending time with Ellie. Her time with the doctor feels remarkably normal, something she could get used to.

"Are you suggesting I try that tack with Chuck?" she asks, unable to keep the laughter from spilling out.

Ellie rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "Good Lord, no! As much as I love them both, Chuck and Devon are pretty much on opposite sides of the spectrum personality-wise." She chuckles and continues, "So tell me, how's the job coming?"

"Oh, it's great. I love it." A few weeks ago, Graham had set her up as a CIA liaison for the EPA. Her work schedule allows her ample time to run off whenever there's a mission that needs attending to, and, to her surprise, there's a lot of vital communication between the two government agencies. The actual job's not that different from what she's done in the past, and luckily, it's something she can see herself doing for a long time to come.

"That's wonderful. I'm so happy for you," Ellie says, and the excitement in her voice is not lost on Sarah.

"Yeah," Sarah agrees with a smile, "I can't believe I'm finally settling down."

"This isn't exactly what you pictured, is it?"

"Honestly?" Sarah asks with raised eyebrows, "I'm not even sure what I pictured." Her gaze wanders around the restaurant as she searches for words. She looks back at the older woman sitting across from her. "But life with Chuck is turning out to be better than I ever could have imagined."

Ellie's smile falters for a fraction of a second, but Sarah's quick enough to catch it. "How are you adjusting now that Chuck's back at school?"

Her throat suddenly dry, Sarah nods and takes a sip of her water. "Well, his classes are going well," she replies. "He seems happy to be finishing up his degree, but I think working and going to school is tiring him out."

"But how are you doing?"

Sarah is touched by Ellie's concern, but she's out of practice with confiding in a friend. She stretches a smile across her lips. "Fine."

Ellie pokes at her salad, her disappointment palpable. Sarah hates letting her down.

The doctor looks up, a hint of sadness in her eyes. "Sarah," she says quietly, "After all this time, I hope you know that you can be honest with me."

Sarah sighs, torn between unburdening her heart and relying on herself, as she's done for the last seven years. But Ellie's gaze is so supportive that her nervousness falls away. Hesitantly, she says, "He's been distant the past week or so – quiet, irritable." Frowning, she shrugs, unable to explain his behavior. There's a note of hysteria in her voice as she continues. "I don't really know what's wrong, if it's something I did, or –"

"Sarah," Ellie says, mercifully cutting her off. She smiles sympathetically. "Calm down. I'm sure it's just a rough patch. Every relationship goes through them."

"This is different," she protests with a shake of her head. It's different because this is Chuck, and Chuck simply doesn't act that way. Because he loves her.

Right?

Before she can dwell on her despair any further, Ellie assures her, "You'll be fine. I promise."

Sarah looks up quickly. That was far from a generic reassurance. It was the confident promise of someone with insider knowledge. "How do you know?" she asks, keeping her tone even.

Smiling, Ellie practically ignores the real question. "Because I've seen you two together. You'll be fine. More than fine."

Not giving up, Sarah narrows her gaze and says seriously, "No, you said we'll be fine, like you know what's bothering him."

Ellie glances down at the table, spears a cucumber with her fork. "I was just . . . speaking from experience," she covers. "Guys are predictable. They get in these funks."

The lack of eye contact, the swallowing before speaking, the faint blush that rises to her cheeks – all indicative of lying, or, at the very least, withholding information.

"This isn't a funk," Sarah presses softly but forcefully.

Because she's been dealing with this for nine days now and she doesn't know what she's done wrong. The thought that he's slipping through her fingers after so little time together cuts her. She's not good at relationships. She knows that. So Ellie's the only person who can help her.

"Ellie," she pleads, "if you know what's bothering him, please just tell me."

The doctor takes a sip of water, buying some time before saying softly, "Devon and Chuck had a good talk when they went out the other night."

Swallowing, Sarah lifts a brow.

Ellie nods. "I think . . . that maybe Chuck thinks you're not . . ."

"What?" Sarah asks quickly. "He thinks I'm not what, Ellie?" The other woman's expression worries her, but she needs to know if Chuck's keeping something from her.

With a sigh, Ellie says, "Chuck's not the most confident guy, Sarah. I think he's just afraid that you're not in this like he is."

Sarah's brow furrows, her eyes narrowed in confusion and regret. "How could he think that?"

Pursing her lips, Ellie takes a deep breath before replying, "He did mention that you never tell him how you feel."

Sarah looks down at her lap and runs a hand over her eyes. She knew this would happen. She knew it had been too good, that they'd never meet in the middle on certain things.

"Hey, look at me," Ellie urges, and Sarah's afraid her eyes are sparkling with tears as she looks up at the woman she's come to view as a sister. "He's a guy, and he's awkward, and maybe he just doesn't understand that you two relate to people differently."

Sarah breathes a sigh, covering her mouth with her hands. She shakes her head and asks, "Should I talk to him? What do I say?"

"Sarah," Ellie says reassuringly, "things like this take time to work out. Just . . . don't fret about it." She smiles. "You and Chuck are great together. You're not going to let something like this stand in the way of what you have."

Sarah nods, the ghost of a smile gracing her lips. "Thank you, Ellie. I don't know what I'd do without you to talk to."

* * *

Sarah walks home from Ellie's, breathing in the cool night air. She's been living with Chuck for three months, and their relationship has been stronger and steadier than she could have imagined. But, full of reservations, she hasn't given herself to him.

And her conversation with Ellie tonight has made her realize that it's decision time. Until now, she's only had one foot in, and Chuck's been doing most of the relationship caretaking.

But not anymore.

She's ready.

Both feet.

She's putting both feet in, and from now on it'll be her and Chuck taking care of four feet instead of just Chuck taking care of three.

Grinning, she picks up her pace down the sidewalk. This weekend. That's when she'll tell him. She plans it as she walks the short distance to their apartment – stargazing on Saturday night. They'll get a few hours out of the city, far enough away to forget about everything but themselves for the evening. A picnic, perhaps? That'll be a nice touch, but if she wants to keep it a good – and edible – surprise, she'll have to get Ellie to help with the food.

As she steps up to the apartment and unlocks the front door, she loves the feeling that every little detail of her life is falling into place. She takes off her jacket and hangs it up on a hook behind the door. Chuck's sitting on the couch, engrossed in a video game. As she leans against the door and crosses her arms, a huge smile comes across her face. If someone had told her fifteen months ago that she would enjoy watching a grown man play video games, she would have been skeptical at the least. But here she is, and there's no place on earth she'd rather be.

She can tell that he's noticed her because of the tension in his shoulders. He's never completely relaxed when he's trying to impress her with his video-game prowess.

Anticipating the weekend to come, she grins and says, "Keep your schedule clear this Saturday, okay?"

Not even sparing her a glance, Chuck scowls. "I have friends, you know, and a life outside of the Intersect. What if I have plans for Saturday?"

Her smile is gone almost as quickly as it came. Anger and shock overtake her, and she's at a loss for words. Recognizing the tiny feeling underneath it all as hurt, she exhales and says in a low voice, "Do whatever the hell you want, Chuck." She turns and, her hand on the door, tells him, "I'll be at Ellie's," but she says it so quietly she's not sure he hears it.

Without a backward glance, she walks out the door and into the night. She knows he's not following her and hates how uncertain she feels about that. She needs the space and would probably brush him away if he tried to follow, but it also seems as if he's giving up.

The thought brings tears to her eyes. She tightens her throat and blinks them away, willing them not to spill. The night air is chilly, and, hugging her torso and hunching up against the cold, she wishes she'd had the foresight to grab her jacket from the hallway. Luckily, the walk to Ellie's apartment is only a few minutes.

She doesn't even get a chance to knock. Ellie opens the door when she's still five feet away. Sarah barely opens her mouth to speak before the brunette ushers her inside, sits her on the couch, and wraps a blanket around her shoulders. She disappears into the kitchen and returns a few minutes later with a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Ellie settles into a nearby armchair, her expression full of concern. Sarah stares down at the mug in her hands. She's been on an emotional whirlwind the whole evening, and this the lowest she's felt since before she met Chuck.

* * *

Chuck tosses his game controller onto the couch. Pyramus, sitting on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table, whimpers as it flies past his ear. With a sigh, Chuck covers his eyes in frustration and shame. He's never lashed out at Sarah since they've been living together. Yes, they have issues to discuss, but she deserves a grown-up conversation, not an indirect, petulant accusation.

Taking his hands away from his eyes, he looks despondently at his dog, mildly amused by their matching dejected expressions. Pyramus perks up a bit when he gets a well-deserved scratch behind the ears.

"What do you think, buddy?" he asks, exhaling heavily. "Should we give her some time to cool off?"

Pyramus lays a paw on his knee, which Chuck takes as acquiescence.

"Yep, let's give her a while."

He leans back against the couch and tilts his head, staring up at the ceiling. He's too deep in this to let one night, one stupid, insignificant fight screw this up.

* * *

Ellie opens the door and stares at her brother, standing on the doorstep with pathetic look on his face, Pyramus sitting on the pavement beside his feet. For the first time, she's not happy to see him.

"What do you want?" she asks, and there's pain in her voice.

His cheeks burning, he looks at his Converses and is struck by the immensity of the situation. By hurting Sarah, he hurt Ellie by association. The thought simultaneously hardens and pleases him. If their pain is not their own, then he and Sarah don't have to go through this alone. They don't have to worry about figuring out what a relationship is supposed to be like. They can learn from their mistakes, and there'll always be someone watching out for them to make sure they don't screw up too horribly.

Swallowing, he looks up at her. "Can I talk to her?" Ellie doesn't look like she's about to back down, so he adds, "I want to apologize."

"Chuck, I thought you knew better than –"

Before she can get very far in her condemnation, Sarah appears behind the brunette and says, "Ellie, I think I can handle it from here."

With a sad smile, Ellie rubs her shoulder and moves out of the way.

"Thank you, though, for everything," Sarah calls softly before turning to him. She leans her head against the door, eyes heavy with emotion, lips poised in a guilt-producing pout.

Chuck tilts his head, silently asking her to follow him. Pyramus's leash still wrapped around one palm, he hooks both hands into his jean pockets, his shoulders shrugging involuntarily. Though Pyramus walks in between them, Sarah maintains an unusual distance between herself and Chuck as she follows.

She gives him the lead, and he walks a minute in silence, collecting his thoughts, before drawing a deep breath.

Without looking at her, he finally says, "Do you know the story of Pyramus and Thisbe?"

Sensing that her answer is irrelevant, she shakes her head.

He keeps his eyes fixed on the pavement as he tells the story, his words slow and even. "They lived next to each other their whole lives, their houses only separated by a wall. Their parents wouldn't let them marry, so they used a small hole in the wall to talk to each other. One day, they decided they had enough, and they made plans to meet under a nearby mulberry tree."

He pauses, breathing deeply. She finds that she enjoys the lyrical, storytelling quality his voice has taken on.

"That night, Thisbe stole out of her house and got to the mulberry tree first. She waited, but before Pyramus could arrive, a lioness appeared near the tree, her mouth bloody and stained from a recent kill. Thisbe ran to safety, but in her haste, she dropped her cloak. When Pyramus came a few minutes later, he took in the scene, assuming that the lioness had gotten to his beloved."

Her arms tucked into her sides, Sarah shivers, partly from the chill night air, partly from the story. Breaking off the narrative, Chuck stops walking, shrugs off his jacket and hands it to her. She accepts it with a small smile and wraps it tightly around her, but no words pass between them.

They resume walking, and Chuck continues speaking as if there had been no interruption. "Beside himself with grief, he thrust his sword into his heart. When Thisbe finally aroused the courage to return to the tree, she saw her lover dead beneath its branches. With a sob, she pressed a kiss to his cold lips and took her own life.

"The white fruit of the mulberry tree was stained red from their blood, and it remains that color today."

Noticing that they're outside the apartment, Sarah stops walking, hugging Chuck's jacket closer to her. He stops beside her, planting himself directly in front of her as Pyramus winds between their legs. He takes her hands in his, and she can feel the tears burning behind her eyes. They stand like that, connected, for a long time.

After a few false starts, Chuck finally speaks, his voice softer, less sure, than it had been when he was telling his story. "I don't want us to be like that," he whispers, choking back emotion. "I don't want us to lose what we could have before we even get a chance to really have it."

A tear streaks down her face, and she sniffles. He takes a step closer, and suddenly her arms are around him.

"I know," she whispers into his shoulder, "I know." She holds him fiercely, because there's no way she's giving him up.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to yell. I've been stupid."

"No, I know. And we've both been stupid."

She pulls away and puts a hand on the side of his face, rubbing his cheek with her thumb.

He chuckles and asks, "Forgive me?"

She nods. "How could I not?"

He smiles, one of his genuine Chuck Bartowski smiles, and her heart soars. One look at him and she knows they're going to get past this. In just a few weeks, tonight will be a distant memory, and they'll have other, much happier things to occupy their thoughts.

She moves her hand down to his neck to pull him closer, feeling a jolt of electricity as their lips meet. She leans into him, trying to show him exactly what he needs to know.

But just in case he doesn't get it, as she reluctantly pulls away, she whispers, "I love you, Charles Irving Bartowski. Never doubt that."

It doesn't come out at all how she'd planned, how she'd wanted it to, but it's enough.

Stunned, Chuck recovers quickly and says, "I'm sorry for pushing you. I know you're not big on talking about your feelings."

"It's all right," she reassures him. "We both made mistakes. I knew something was bothering you and wasn't able to put the pieces together. For that, I'm sorry."

"So we're good?" he questions with another smile.

"Yeah," she says softly. "We're good."

"Great," he exhales. "So you were saying something about this weekend? Before I thought it was Intersect-related, but now I get that it isn't, so are we still on for whatever it is? Do you need me to clear the whole weekend or just Satur-"

"Chuck," she cuts him off.

His eyes had wandered during his rambling, but his gaze, now wide and receptive, snaps back up to meet hers.

"Shut up and kiss me," she breathes as she pulls him against her once more, her arms tight around his neck. Reveling in just how amazingly good he feels, she laces her fingers through his hair and crushes his lips even harder against her own.

He breaks away with a flustered yet happy expression. His breathing is rapid, his breath hot on her face.

"I hope you don't have any plans for the rest of the night," she says, her eyes sparkling.

His eyebrows shoot up, but he manages to inject a confident tone into his voice as he asks, "Oh, yeah? Why's that?"

In a low, sultry voice, she replies, "Because I intend to take you inside and have my way with you until your limbs feel like jello." Smirking, she grabs his hand and leads him towards the door. "Think you can keep up?"

Chuck grins. "I have every night before."

"Please, Chuck. You haven't seen anything yet."


	11. Baby Talk

Does anyone remember this story? No? Okay then.

A/Ns: Bryce is a fantastic character in the show. So I hope this chapter redeems him a bit.

ILM exists (and it's awesome!), but it's based in SD, not LA. I thought it'd be cool to give Chuck a job like that, and I believe it's my prerogative to stretch the truth a bit. :P

Once again, thanks to **BillatWork **for doing a beta read.

* * *

"Sweetie?"

Sarah runs her hand along the wall as she waltzes down the hallway toward their bedroom, Pyramus bouncing happily at her heels. She loves this house, loves the home she and Chuck have created here simply within the last year. They had stuck with their apartment after he'd completed his degree, even after the substantial pay increase that had come with his change from the Buy More to Lucas's Industrial Light & Magic. But after the job change, they'd started accruing a pile of money in addition to both of their government paychecks that neither had any idea what to do with. So they'd turned to their best friends for advice. Devon had suggested investments, and Ellie had suggested a house.

So now, they've been in this house for a year and a half, and it's been the best experience Sarah's ever had. She and Ellie had spent weeks decorating it in bright shades of color, transforming it into the first real, permanent home she's ever had. Every room is a different, vibrant color. The kitchen's light yellow, the library's mauve, the living room's burnt orange, the dining room's green, and their bedroom is a warm shade of maroon. The two women had been covered in paint for nearly three weeks straight while the boys fixed up odds and ends around the house and set up the electronics. After it was all done, she and Chuck had quickly settled into a new routine in the new place.

And thanks to Devon's suggestion, their fortunes had only increased. As they did so, Chuck became increasingly uncomfortable. Never quite at ease with being "rich," he still lives like he did three years ago – subsisting on pizza and video games, living in jeans, t-shirts, and his trusty old Converse All-Stars. She thinks he'll never be quite all right with their income, but that fact only makes her love him more.

"Sweetie?" Sarah calls again as she approaches the bedroom. "Come on. We have to leave in a few minutes, or else we'll be late."

She pushes open the door to the bedroom, only to find Chuck lying on his back on the bed, one arm thrown over his eyes. His tuxedo coat is thrown over the pillows, and his feet are shoeless, but other than that, he's mostly ready. He groans as she walks in.

"Well," she frowns. "At least you're almost dressed."

Chuck lifts his head to look at her. "Do we have to go?" he whines.

She glances at the clock near the bed. Despite the fact that they should be leaving for the party within a few minutes, she can't help but offer him a smile. Leaning over him, she teases, "You're so antisocial, it's ridiculous."

He grins, pulls her down for a kiss. "But you love me."

"You know I do," she chuckles. Patting his chest, she pushes herself off of him and says, "But you still have to come with me tonight."

Chuck grimaces as he stands up. "Honestly, Sarah, I'll just be a drag."

She picks up his jacket from the bed, dusts it off, and holds it out for him. "Sorry, Chuck, but you're going." She giggles as he scoffs in mock disgust, slinging his arms into his tuxedo coat. "You're going because I want to show you off to all my colleagues. I want them to be jealous of my adorable, charming, slightly nerdy husband."

He spins, sliding an arm around her waist. "You think I'm charming?"

She leans forward, her lips brushing against his as she replies, "Devastatingly so."

Chuck pulls her against him for a kiss, but her good mood still hasn't rubbed off on him when they part. He lets out a heavy sigh, resting his forehead on her shoulder.

"I've been to a million of these parties," he complains huffily. "Don't I have like . . . karma chips or something to get me out of this?"

"'Karma chips'?" she smirks. "I know you hate these things, Chuck, but it's just a few hours." A new strategy pops into her head as she straightens his bowtie. "Director Gaskell will be there. I'm due to hand off a monthly report. Would you like to do that for me?"

Chuck lifts his eyebrows as he contemplates the offer. His lips curl into a pretend snarl as he quietly practices his Carmichael/Bond impersonation, and she retrieves a small flash drive from her jewelry box.

"Here," she says as she hands it to him. "Try not to lose it."

He sticks his tongue out, depositing the flash drive into his breast pocket. "Very funny."

"Don't go too Carmichael on her, okay?" she warns before giving him another kiss of reassurance.

"Why not?" he smirks. "It's because the ladies just can't resist Carmichael, isn't it?"

She laughs. "That's definitely it, sweetie."

* * *

Sarah rolls her eyes as the backseat of the limo fills with the sound effects from Chuck's PSP. She hates dragging him along like this, but it's important for her work. And despite all his foot-dragging and sigh-heaving, she knows he's supportive of her. She settles her head comfortably against his shoulder.

"I don't understand why we have to ride in this stupid thing," Chuck says out of nowhere, gesturing with his PSP.

Sarah shakes her head. He's so uncomfortable with unnecessary displays of wealth. "Chuck," she replies patiently, "It's policy. We have to impress some people tonight, so I'd appreciate it if you'd behave. Mmkay?" He nods, inclines his head to give her a peck on the lips. But his eyes never leave the game, so she decides to shake him up a bit.

"Besides," she adds, her eyes sparkling wickedly, "this way we can have sex on the ride home."

He chokes, but recovers his composure quickly and pauses the game. "Oh, yeah," he stammers, his voice slightly higher than normal, "that's a good reason, too."

Chuckling, she gives his arm a squeeze. The video game sound effects return as she turns to look out the window. They still have twenty minutes before they reach the party, and, as she has nothing to focus on, the thing that's been weighing on Sarah's mind comes to the foreground again.

Turning to him, she says quietly, "Chuck? I have something to tell you."

To his credit, Chuck does make an effort to glance up from his game. His eyes meet hers for a split second and then rocket back down to the screen.

"It's kind of important," she says, and she's nervous enough that her palms are starting to sweat.

Swallowing, he pauses the game again, sets it in his lap, and turns to face her. "I'm sorry, sweetie. What's up?"

The bright lights of the video game illuminate his chin, and he looks so naïve, so innocent. With all his video games, and his fanaticism for all things science fiction, and his dislike of suits, he's kind of like a giant child himself. But somehow the thought is strengthening rather than frightening. Impulsively, she runs a hand through his curls.

Feigning displeasure, he tells her playfully, "You're ruining my perfect hair."

"You'll get over it, I'm sure," she laughs. "And you're going to need a hair cut soon, you know."

He groans, leaning his head back against the seat. "Please don't remind me." He picks his head up and, in a brighter voice, asks, "Is that what you wanted to tell me?"

Sarah stares at him, suddenly dumbfounded. This was stupid. He's about to withstand a night of socializing and hobnobbing and she wants to drop a bomb like _that_ on him?

No. No way.

Smiling, she shakes her head. "You know what? Never mind. It's not that important."

"No," Chuck says gently. "No, tell me. I'm listening. I promise."

She kisses him on the lips, taking her time to come up with another explanation for wanting to talk to him. As she pulls away, she murmurs, "You can't take your PSP inside."

He frowns and mutters, "That all? I figured as much."

"Sorry, hon." She slaps his chest with a chuckle. "But thanks for coming with me. I'll make it up to you later."

Chuck grins. "Is that a promise?"

She gives him another kiss, a longer, deeper one this time. "You bet, mister."

* * *

Chuck watches his wife from across the room. He hates these things, hates social functions that masquerade as charity fundraisers. But Sarah seems to enjoy them. Even though they still go on missions, they're infrequent and often straightforward, and he sometimes thinks she misses the glamour of their previous life. He knows she deserves a more exciting life than what he can offer, and he's frequently dumbstruck by how happy she seems here. Before they started dating, there had been a constant undercurrent of sadness to her, one that always led him to believe that he'd wake up one day and she'd be halfway across the globe.

But she's proved him wrong every single day since they've been together, and he knows she's not going anywhere now.

She looks up as she chats with a small group of people and her eyes briefly meet his. The shy smile that springs to her lips makes him want to rush over and drag her away from those people and their undoubtedly boring conversation. But her gaze shifts to his right, and he turns to see Director Gaskell near the hors d'oeuvres table. He looks back at Sarah, giving her an almost imperceptible nod, and ambles to the other side of the room.

Nearing the director, Chuck clears his throat. "Anything good?" he asks, indicating the hors d'oeuvres.

Director Gaskell, a tall, raven-haired woman in her early forties, looks at him, amusement sparkling in her grey eyes.

"Not unless you like food that costs more than your mortgage," she chuckles.

"Ah, see, I'm more of a pizza man myself." He offers a smile and holds out his hand, the flash drive tucked under his thumb. "Charles Carmichael."

"Victoria Gaskell," she replies, accepting his handshake and the flash drive. Discreetly, she slips it into her clutch before turning back to him. "I've heard so much about you. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Chuck holds back a chuckle, because the director probably sees him more than she wishes to, and she's still able to keep a straight face as she says it.

"Likewise," he says.

Director Gaskell glances at the dance floor, and Chuck thinks he sees a hint of boredom in her posture. He grins. As long as he's here, why shouldn't he have some fun?

"Excuse me," he begins, "but would you do me the honor of a dance?"

* * *

Sarah can't stop an exasperated chuckle as she watches Chuck twirl around on the dance floor with none other than the director of the CIA. The group of interns she had been talking to is watching the dancers as well, their gazes almost envious. They giggle quietly, some expressing wishes to be asked to dance.

A young redhead, Jamie, turns to her friend and says softly, "How about that handsome one with the curly hair? I'd love to dance with him."

Her brown-haired friend blushes and, inclining her head toward Sarah, admonishes her in an undertone. "Shh . . . that's _her_ husband."

Jamie looks at Sarah in humiliation. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize."

"It's okay," Sarah waves her off. Then inspiration strikes. "In fact," she continues with a devious grin, "he's rather shy, so I'm sure he'd love it if you asked him to dance."

A chorus of muffled giggles follows this announcement, and Sarah spends the rest of the night watching in amusement as the girls, one by one, approach her husband and ask for a dance.

When she's laughed through five dances, watched the interns ask him one after the other, she sees Director Gaskell approach from the opposite end of the room. The older woman greets her with a friendly smile.

After a few minutes of polite, mundane conversation, the Director startles her with an unexpected question.

"Is there anything you want to tell me, Sarah?"

Taken aback, Sarah takes a sip of her water as she contemplates an answer. "What do you mean?"

Gaskell smiles knowingly and gestures at the water glass in Sarah's hand. "You haven't touched a drop of champagne all evening. When there's no mission, even the best-trained agents rarely make it a half-hour at a function like this without alcohol." She pauses, smirking, before asking, "When are you due?"

Sarah chokes, covering up her surprise with a cough. Laughing, Director Gaskell lays a hand on her forearm.

"It's okay," she assures her. "You won't be sent in the field again until you feel comfortable."

Sarah shakes her head. "It's not that. It's . . . I haven't told Chuck yet."

Gaskell nods thoughtfully. "Well, when you do, we can discuss together what you want to do."

"What do you mean?"

"Your husband's already more of an analyst than a field agent. He might be happier in a permanent analytical position. As for you, you'll need to be transferred as soon as possible. No more field missions for the time being. After that, you can decide whether you'd rather stay in a desk job or return to the field."

"Would I be working with Chuck?"

"Yes." Gaskell pauses, thinking. "I shouldn't be telling you this until everything's final, but we're discussing the possibility of setting up a more permanent interagency base here in L.A. You, Chuck, and Major Casey would be the head agents. Two, possibly three, more agents would work under you, and new agents would cycle in as needed."

Sarah smiles and turns her gaze toward Chuck, who is now dancing with Jamie. She can't deny how attractive that sounds, how much she just wants to settle down with him and have a relatively normal life.

Now if only she can figure out how to tell her husband.

* * *

In the corner of the ballroom, Chuck stands with his hands in the pockets of his trousers, a grin of his face.

He's hiding, hiding from the girls sent to ask him to dance undoubtedly by none other than his mischievous wife. But he's also watching said wife, watching the subtle cues in her body language that give away how bored she is with her dancing partner.

The guy's good-looking enough, Chuck supposes – almost his own height, with wavy blonde hair, bright eyes, and a perfectly straight smile. But what matters is that he knows Sarah doesn't see any of that.

Grinning, Chuck strides confidently over to the dance floor. He taps the guy on the shoulder. "Mind if I cut in?" he asks, throwing a charming glance at Sarah.

The pair stops dancing, and the man looks to Sarah for permission before nodding and answering, "Yeah, man. Of course."

"Thanks," Chuck says quietly, clapping him on the shoulder before offering his hand to his Sarah.

She takes it with a smile, sliding her left hand onto his shoulder and leaning her cheek against his. She sighs contentedly, and Chuck, enjoying the feeling of his wife in his arms, tightens his embrace.

He chuckles lightly in her ear and accuses softly, "You ambushed me."

Sarah giggles and pulls back to look her husband in the eyes. "I know," she murmurs, giving him a soft kiss on the lips, "but you were so cute. I couldn't help it."

"What am I gonna do with you?" he asks playfully, shaking his head.

Sarah, her eyebrows raised, runs her thumb over the back of his neck and grins impishly. "Hmm . . . I can think of a few things." She glances at the exit. "But we'll need to make a break for it."

Chuck laughs softly. "What happened to being good and to impressing people?"

"I think we've done our part. Don't you?"

He grins as she slides a hand down his chest.

"Yeah," he answers quietly, nodding.

Laughing throatily, Sarah runs her hand down his arm until their fingers lace together and pulls him toward the exit.

* * *

There are a million things running through his mind as Chuck exits his office and heads down the hallway. Phones are ringing, people are conversing, music is playing, and the morning's meeting plays over in his head, but the only thing he cares about is the blonde waiting patiently in the main lobby. He walks out, nodding to his receptionist, Alice, and Sarah lights up.

She greets him with a kiss on the cheek. "Hi, sweetie."

"Hey," he grins, his arms automatically wrapping around her waist. "I'm sorry. Did I know you were coming?"

"I thought I'd surprise you," she answers. There's a smile on her face, but he's picking up a hint of nervousness.

"Well, thanks. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, of course," she replies, her smile growing. "Just taking my husband to lunch."

He shrugs. "All right. Just asking."

She lifts a brow. "Chinese?"

"You bet," he chuckles, latching hands with her.

They head to the Chinese buffet a few blocks over, one of their regular haunts. When they're finished ordering drinks, a serious expression returns to Sarah's face.

Sensing that a talk is coming, he settles into his chair. "What's up?" he asks.

Sarah slides her hand across the table, reaching for his. "I need to talk to you about something," she says slowly.

"Okay, I'm listening." He flashes her a grin, just to make sure she knows he is.

Except his phone picks that exact moment to ring. Retrieving the cell from his pocket, he glances at the caller ID.

"I'm sorry," Chuck tells her. "It's work."

She nods. "Go ahead. Take it."

He shoots her an apologetic look before answering the call. "Hello?"

"Chuck, it's Thayer. We need you back here right away. We've got a crisis with the _Star Crawler _movie due out next month."

Chuck sighs. "Thayer, I'm out to lunch with my wife. Can't you handle it for another half-hour or so?"

"Chuck, man, Warners is going nuts. The whole department's in chaos."

He breathes in deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

When he hangs up the phone, Sarah's gazing at him with that _look_, the one that says she knows what he's about to confess.

"Sarah, I'm –"

"It's okay," she says, a somber smile on her face. "Just go."

He gives her hand a squeeze. "I swear I'll make it up to you. How about I pick up a few movies on the way home?"

"Yeah," she nods, "that'd be nice."

"Okay, great." He leaves a twenty on the table, stands, and leans toward her to place a kiss on her cheek. "I'm sorry. I'll be home as soon as I can."

Chuck glances back as he leaves, his heart breaking at the sight of his forlorn wife sitting alone.

* * *

The ringing of her cell phone pulls her from sleep. With a groan, Sarah reaches out to grab the phone from the bedside stand, her fingers fumbling in their search.

"'Lo?"

"Sarah, good morning!" Ellie's voice is much too peppy and bright for eight o'clock in the morning. Sarah can practically hear her grin through the phone. "I just got back from my run. I thought we could go get some breakfast."

More awake now, Sarah sits up and smiles. "I'd love to, Ellie. Give me half an hour?"

"Sure. Want to meet at the café on Belmont?"

Before Sarah can answer, an uncomfortable nausea in the pit of her stomach overtakes her. It's a feeling she's been getting every morning for the past eight days, and it's one she thinks she'll never get used to. She covers her mouth and closes her eyes, hoping that the sensation will pass.

When it hasn't a few seconds later, though, Sarah mumbles hurriedly, "I have to go," before darting into the bathroom, the phone crashing onto the tile floor as she falls to her knees and bends over the bowl of the toilet.

Dimly, even while retching, Sarah can hear Ellie's concerned voice coming through the phone. One hand holding back her hair, she reaches out the other to flip the phone shut and cut off the connection. Exhausted, she wipes her mouth with a washcloth and leans her forehead on the cool porcelain. She brushes her teeth and waits a few minutes in case Ellie calls back. When she doesn't, though, Sarah takes the opportunity to jump in the shower.

The cool water refreshes her, and she feels awake and energized when she dresses and heads downstairs. As she grabs her keys from a bowl on the kitchen counter, Ellie bursts into the house, looking like a woman on a mission.

"Sarah!" she exclaims, catching sight of her sister-in-law. "Oh, my God! Are you okay? What happened?"

"It's okay, Ellie. Calm down."

Sarah hugs her, smiling, and leads her to a seat at the kitchen table. She moves across the room to make some coffee. Ellie, distressed, looks in need of something strong.

Breathing in deeply, Ellie replies, "Sarah, I heard you over the phone. You sounded absolutely horrible. Now are you going to tell me what's going on, or am I going to have to drag it out of you?" A light chuckle escapes her lips as she calms down.

Sarah turns and leans against the counter, her chest rising as she inhales the familiar, comforting scent of the brewing coffee. She crosses her arms and smiles. "What do you mean?" she asks innocently.

"Oh, come on," Ellie says, lifting a brow in a challenge. "I heard you – you were sick, and I'm a doctor. Let me help."

Sarah rolls her eyes. Even at the slightest hint of trouble, Ellie and Devon play the doctor card with her and Chuck. After a week of not being able to find the words to tell Chuck, she has a burning desire to tell her very understanding, very affectionate sister-in-law. But there's also a part of her that wants Chuck to know before his whole family finds out.

"Really, Ellie," she says emphatically, "it was nothing."

Ellie purses her lips, clearly dissatisfied with that answer. "Fine. But we're staying here so I can make you a proper breakfast. And I want you to tell me first thing if you feel sick again."

Chuckling, Sarah gives her a mock salute. "Noted, Dr. Woodcomb."

Ellie laughs and gets up to start making breakfast. The coffee maker beeps, and Sarah rises to pour Ellie a mug. She slides it down the counter, where the brunette is already busy throwing together muffin batter.

"Thanks," Ellie says, doing a double take after she glances up. "You're not having any?"

"I'm just going to have some water," she replies unthinkingly. "I've been really thirsty lately." She pauses, her arm poised to reach for a glass from the upper cabinet, when she realizes what she's said.

Ellie's eyes narrow. Sarah gives her a smile.

"Sarah . . . are you . . . ?"

Ellie gestures towards her stomach, and Sarah can no longer keep the secret. So much for Chuck knowing before the family. She nods, her grin widening with each nod.

"Oh, my God!" Ellie shouts, already crushing her sister-in-law in a fierce hug. "Congratulations! That's amazing!"

"Thank you," Sarah laughs. "I'm really excited."

Ellie pulls back to look Sarah in the eyes, her arms still encircling the latter's torso. "'I'?"

Sarah grimaces. "I haven't figured out a way to tell Chuck yet."

* * *

Standing in the bookstore, a smile crosses Sarah's face as she flips through a pregnancy book. She'll admit that she finds this whole section of the store slightly overwhelming, but there's a baby name book right below her eye line, and she's contemplating using that as a way to tell Chuck.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the approach of a man on her right. When she glances over, she recognizes the spiky hair and the short stature.

"Morgan," she greets warmly.

He grins. "Sarah! I thought that was you. I was at the comic store across the way and thought I'd say hi."

His eyes roam towards the book in her hand. She snaps it shut, quickly replacing it on the shelf before returning her attention to him.

"Whatcha, whatcha reading there?" he asks innocently.

"Oh, nothing." She starts walking out of the aisle, towards a hopefully less incriminating section.

"No, no, wait a minute."

Sarah turns around to find the book back in his hands. He's staring at it, wide-eyed.

"_What to Expect When You're Expecting_?" Morgan reads off the cover, his voice incredulous. He looks up eagerly. "Oh, my God. And last week, at the movies, you got Sour Patch Kids instead of your regular Mike 'n' Ikes, which made no sense to me at all. But now . . . Sarah . . . ?"

She nods and smiles widely, unable to help herself, and he launches himself at her, laughing, his arms tightly hugging her torso.

"Oh, my God!" he shouts excitedly. "I'm gonna be an uncle! This is _awesome_!"

Sarah grins, unwilling to disabuse him of that notion. "Yeah, Morgan," she says happily. She pulls away and warns softly, "But I haven't told Chuck yet, so you can't let him know, okay?"

Morgan, always up to a challenge, nods and gestures like he's zipping his lips. "Of course, of course, Sarah. My lips are sealed. So when are you gonna tell him?"

She frowns thoughtfully. "Soon. I just have to figure out a way to break the news."

Morgan smiles and hits her on the shoulder playfully. "Aw, don't worry. You'll figure it out. Might I suggest, though, a romantic dinner for two? I'll even volunteer my catering services."

"Thanks," she chuckles. "If I still haven't told him by next week, I'll take you up on that offer."

* * *

Propped up on an elbow, Sarah stares down at her sleeping husband, his lips spluttering softly with every rhythmic breath. His face is half-buried in the pillow, and a small smile creeps onto her face as she reaches out to brush back his hair, flopping over his forehead.

"You need a haircut," she whispers, her fingers stroking through his curls. Her smile fading, she sighs heavily and runs a finger slowly down the side of his face. Chuck, always a fairly heavy sleeper, barely stirs.

"You're always the one with the words," she continues softly. "I'm the one with the actions. That's why we work so well together." She pauses to place a light kiss on his temple. "I just wish I could find the right way to tell you this."

Lying back down, she lets out another sigh. For something so happy, why was it so hard to say?

"Why can't I just say it?" she asks herself aloud. Turning her head to look at her sleeping husband, she smiles softly and says, "I already know how happy you're going to be."

A smile graces her lips as she confesses, "I'm pregnant. Was that so hard? No." She rolls onto her side and lays a hand on his chest. "But I am, and I'm ridiculously excited to start a family with you, and I just wish I could let you know that without feeling like a fool."

She leans over to place a light kiss on his nose. Sighing, she falls back onto the pillow. "I guess I'll just have to try again tomorrow." She tweaks his nose lightly with her forefinger and chuckles. "When you're actually awake."

* * *

Sarah sips her orange juice, watching her husband standing by the counter and pouring his coffee. She still loves the smell of coffee, and the next seven months will be long without it.

Chuck takes a sip of coffee and smiles at her. "I had the weirdest dream last night."

She lifts an eyebrow innocently. "Oh?"

"Yeah," he nods, "you told me you were pregnant." Running a hand self-consciously through his curls, he adds, "And you said I needed a hair cut, but the strange thing was, it was so vivid, so un-dreamlike." He takes another sip and shakes his head. "What do you think it means? Why do you think I was dreaming about that?"

Sensing her chance, she smirks and walks over to him. This is it. Now or never. Snaking an arm around his waist, she stretches on her tip-toes to give him a peck on the lips before saying, "Maybe because I am." With a chuckle, she pulls away and saunters back across the kitchen.

Chuck splutters out his sip of coffee, coughing. She sneaks a glance at him as he punches himself lightly on the chest.

"Hot coffee?" she asks with a grin.

Across the kitchen table, Chuck stares at her, openmouthed. His gaze travels to her stomach in search of that tell-tale bump. Of course he had noticed that she's grown a few pounds pudgier over the last couple weeks. But he kind of likes it, especially when they're cuddling on the couch on movie nights. But those few extra pounds . . . that slight pudge . . . all that . . . it means . . .

"Are you . . . are you really . . . ?" he stammers.

Sarah nods, holding her breath as she waits for his response. He swallows thickly, taking in her words, before he meets her eyes and bursts into laughter.

"Are you kidding me? We're having a baby!" Still laughing brightly, he jaunts around the table, wraps her in a tight hug, and spins her around the kitchen. "We're having a _baby_!"

Sarah joins in his elated laughter, her arms tight about his neck as she spins through the air. Just as he begins to set her back down to the floor, she inclines her head and brings her lips to his, the touch of his lips communicating all his joy.

Still grinning, Chuck pulls away to ask breathlessly, "When?"

"July," she answers happily, running her hands through his hair. "And you really do need a haircut."

"How can I think about a haircut when we have so much to do to get ready?"

He chuckles before leaning in to capture her lips sweetly, and Sarah wonders why she spent so much time fretting over this.

* * *

"I should do this. _I _should be protecting _you_."

"I disagree. This is much more suited to my skill set. I've been trained in infiltration since I was thirteen."

Chuck frowns, squinting through the pouring rain and all the way across the park to the car. He and Sarah are huddling under a tree, Chuck holding his jacket spread above them as a barrier against the thick raindrops.

"Fine, but take the jacket," he says, handing it to her.

Sarah smiles, kisses him on the cheek while grabbing the car keys from his pocket. Before he can change his mind, she takes off from their hiding place, leaving him with the abandoned picnic gear. Running swiftly, one arm instinctively over her six-month pregnancy bump, she makes it to the car in just a few minutes and drives around the park to pick him up. Chuck throws the picnic basket and blanket into the back seat before ducking into the passenger seat.

Growling playfully, he grins and shakes out his wet hair onto Sarah's stomach. "How's my little kiddo? How's my munchkin? Did Mommy keep you out of the rain?"

Sarah laughs, running her hands over his head. "Your dad's silly, isn't he?" she asks teasingly, addressing the baby.

Smiling, Chuck lifts his head and gives her a kiss on the cheek. He sits back in his seat, allowing her to start the car and pull out of the parking lot.

"So I was thinking," Chuck says, "How about Hera for a girl?"

Smirking, Sarah raises a brow and glances over at him. "Really? You want to name our daughter after a 'Battlestar Galactica' character?"

He shrugs, as if to say, 'Of course.' "What about Starbuck? Now, a pro for that name is that we could use it for either a boy or a girl."

She rolls her eyes. "I'm sorry. I love you, but I have to put my foot down. No 'Battlestar' names."

Chuck purses his lips contemplatively before venturing, "Not even for middle names?"

And damn, his goofy smile is more persuasive than the barrel of a gun.

"Okay," she chuckles, "maybe for middle names."

"So, for a boy, I was thinking either Han or Yorick. Or how about Richard? That's a good, strong name."

Sarah laughs as she makes a turn. "Han from _Star Wars_, Yorick from _Y: The Last Man_, and Richard from the _Sword of Truth_ series?"

"I think it's important for our kids to know just how much we love them."

"And naming them after your favorite science fiction characters does that?"

"Honey," Chuck states, feigning exasperation, "_our_ favorite science fiction characters, yes."

As he starts to launch into another enthusiastic dialogue on baby names, she eases the car to a stop at a traffic light and leans over to give him a kiss on the lips, cutting him off in the middle of his ramblings.

"What was that for?" he smiles.

"I had to stop your mouth somehow," she responds saucily. "One thing's for sure, though," she continues, "we're going to have to get ourselves a baby name book."

* * *

Megan Casey Bartowski is born on July 22, 2012, a little over six months after her cousin, Howard Liam Woodcomb, makes his debut. She's got two arms and two legs, with the proper number of respective fingers and toes attached to each. She's pink and squished and somehow the most beautiful thing Sarah's ever seen.

Chuck jokes about missing Comic-Con, but is quickly silenced by stern stares from his ecstatic sister and his exhausted wife.

Casey, who had spent most of the birth pacing outside of the delivery room, is among the first visitors. He crowds into the room with Ellie, Devon, Morgan, and Anna, standing aloof in the corner, but what matters is that he's there. When Chuck announces the baby's name, Sarah notices the slight change in his normally tough expression. And when she passes him the tiny bundle of blankets and flesh, there's a softness in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

Casey takes his godfather duties seriously, rocking her soothingly, his gaze the perfect cross between protective and loving.

And as she watches him hold Megan gently in his strong arms, Sarah's certain that her daughter is just as safe there as she is in her own arms.

* * *

Sarah settles her brand-spanking-new daughter into the basinet next to the hospital bed and settles back under the covers to grab some shut-eye herself. Chuck's already napping (and snoring) uncomfortably in a chair beside her.

She takes a deep breath, allowing a timid smile to appear on her face, but tenses when she hears movement at the door. She hates how vulnerable she feels without a gun under her pillow and knives tucked under her hospital gown. She hates that her family still needs constant protection.

The door opens, and Bryce Larkin, dressed in hospital scrubs, sneaks into the room.

She gasps.

Bryce.

He quickly holds a finger to his lips, his eyes sparkling with joy, and she looks over at her husband, unsure if she should wake him or let him sleep through his nemesis's visit.

"Hey, Sarah," he says softly, his grin as brilliant as ever, his nose slightly crooked.

"Bryce," she greets, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

His smile falters the tiniest bit. "I came to congratulate you," he says, ambling over to the basinet. The wonder on his face softens her heart. He may have done some stupid things, but that was a long time ago, and, after all, he was the one who forced her into acknowledging her feelings about the man snoring softly beside her.

She sits up with a sigh, still keeping her eyes on Bryce.

He looks almost nervous, and he spits out quickly, "Sarah, I –"

"We don't want your apology," she cuts him off, not needing or caring to hear his explanation.

"But, Sarah," he argues quietly, "that's part of the reason I came back. I can't stand letting you and Chuck think badly of me."

"It doesn't matter anymore. Besides, I know why you did it."

"You do?"

"Of course," she nods. "I was still an agent, Bryce, no matter how compromised I was. You think I didn't understand the trouble I was putting myself and Chuck in?"

He rubs his jaw, remembering a night in Arizona almost four years ago. "Then why'd you sock me?"

She sighs and looks at him intently. "Because _you_ didn't understand _me_, Bryce. I loved my job. But it took meeting Chuck for me to finally realize that it didn't love me back, for me to find something to live for that was bigger than myself."

Bryce stares at her, a wondering half-smile lingering on his lips. Regaining his senses, he looks down at the infant lying in the basinet in front of him.

He reaches down to tickle her chin and asks, "Can I hold her?"

"I think we should ask her father first," Sarah replies softly.

He nods. "She looks a lot like you, you know. . . . But she's got his eyes."

Sarah smiles. Megan does have the Bartowski eyes, warm brown ones that make you forget about the passage of time, make you care only about her funny little giggles. Sarah turns to Chuck and nudges his arm. He wakes up with a start.

"Wha? Wha's goin' on?" he mumbles, his eyes still closed.

"We have a visitor," she tells him quietly.

Chuck opens his eyes and looks around the room, jumping to his feet when he notices Bryce Larkin standing in the corner of the room over the baby's basinet. His body tense, he stares at his old college roommate without a word.

"Chuck," she says, a hand on his arm, "it's all right."

Chuck relaxes, glancing over at Sarah.

"Sorry I couldn't make it to the wedding," Bryce apologizes with a smile, "but it looks like you two are doing fine without me."

"What do you want, Bryce?" Chuck asks, sounding more drained than angry.

He shrugs. "I just wanted to get a look at the newest addition, that's all. Can't a friend do that?"

Chuck purses his lips and turns to Sarah for guidance. Off her forgiving look, he sighs and walks over to the basinet.

"This doesn't mean you don't have to explain yourself," he huffs, but Sarah can tell he's not really that mad. Gingerly, he puts his arms around Megan, scoops her out, and holds her against his chest. "Are you sure you know how to hold her?"

Bryce grins. "Believe it or not, I do."

"Fine," Chuck replies with a half-smile, handing his newborn off to his friend. "Be careful," he warns.

Bryce accepts the bundle carefully, using his right hand to support Megan's head. "Hey, baby girl," he says softly. "I'm your uncle Bryce." Chuck glares, only half-jokingly, and he amends his statement with a chuckle. "Okay, well, just Bryce for now. We'll work on the 'uncle' part later, when your dad's in a better mood."

Chuck comes to sit on the side of the bed, still watching Bryce and Megan protectively, and Sarah lays a hand on his shoulder. Reaching up to connect their hands, he turns his head to look at her. She smiles and gives his hand a squeeze, knowing he's as happy as she is as the sudden revival of this friendship.

* * *

Sarah emerges from the bathroom, toweling her hair dry. After two and a half days in the hospital, she's glad to be home, and the shower had been rejuvenating. Walking into the bedroom, she finds just who she's looking for – her family.

Pyramus is curled up at the foot of the bed, snoozing and seemingly disinterested in his new human companion. Chuck is lying on his side, his head propped up on one hand, using the other to tickle Megan's stomach. She's on her back in the middle of the bed on a blanket decorated with softballs, bats, and diamonds. The blanket, along with a number of other baby items and a bouquet of flowers, had been a gift from one Cole Barker, an acquaintance of both hers and Chuck's in MI-6.

Most of their other spy-world friends had sent gifts as well. General Beckman and Director Gaskell gave a box of baby clothes and toys respectively. Bryce, after that first afternoon, had surprised them with an entire collection of Dr. Seuss and P.D. Eastman books. And Carina, whom Sarah's known since the academy, sent a slinky nightie with a note that read:

_To get you back 'in the mood.' Congrats on the little one. I'll have to swing by to see her someday soon. She could probably use my influence._

_Your BFF,_

_Carina_

The note and gift had made her laugh, but Chuck had turned red with embarrassment when he read it.

Right now, though, he looks happy as can be, blowing a raspberry on Megan's tummy. Smiling, Sarah walks over to the bed and lies down on the other side of their daughter.

"Hey, baby girl," she greets her with a kiss on the ear. "Are you being good for your daddy?"

"Yeah," Chuck laughs lightly, "she's happy to be home. Aren't you, kiddo?" Megan's tiny fist latches around his forefinger as he looks up at Sarah. "I think she needs a nap soon, though."

Sarah looks down at Megan, running the back of a finger down her squishy arm. "Are you getting sleepy?" she asks softly. She glances at Chuck and adds, "Looks like Daddy's tired, too."

He smiles. "I have a feeling we're going to be perpetually tired for the next couple months."

"But it'll be worth it, right?"

"Of course," he says without hesitation. He sighs happily, plays with Megan's tiny toes, and gazes at his wife. "I mean, I realize this isn't going to be easy at all, but it'll _so_ be worth it."

She chuckles. "It's the hard that makes it great, right?"

"Right," he smiles, leaning over to giver her a soft kiss.

Sarah takes a deep breath as she lets the reality of her new life wash over her. She no longer feels undeserving of her happiness, no longer thinks her perfect life can be taken away from her in a split second. Here, with her husband and their newborn daughter, she feels perfectly, incandescently content.

And that's more than she could have dreamed of five years ago.

Holding Megan's minuscule fist in her large, slender fingers, Sarah looks over at Chuck, who's still staring down at their daughter, a wistful smiling gracing his lips.

"Chuck," she says softly.

"Hmm?" he asks, lifting his gaze to her.

"I love you."

"I know," Chuck grins. "I love you, too." Leaning down to kiss Megan's forehead, he adds, "I love both of my girls."

Her smile growing at the sight, Sarah feels as if her heart is about to burst with happiness.


	12. All the Pretty Little Horses

A/N: Oh, no one remembers this story? Cool. :P

It certainly has been a while, and I apologize. Various things have gotten in the way, I just kind of lost direction for this story, and then it started to spiral out of control a bit, lol. The good news is that I think I've gotten it back on track. There will be two more chapters, and then this will finally be complete! Yay.

And in the next chapter, everyone's favorite spy makes an appearance! (Okay, okay, _my _favorite spy. :P)

Big thanks to **BillatWork **for looking this over for me. :)

P.S. Don't forget to check out **FL**'s Who Are You? Challenge! I've contributed a story. See if you can find it! :D

* * *

"Flower delivery for a Sarah Bartowski."

Sarah glances up warily, but Jamie's already on her feet and walking toward the delivery man, a young guy named Jimmy working a side job to earn money for college.

"I can take those!" the assistant says, her voice bright and perky, and Sarah, seeing Jimmy's toothy smile, doesn't have to be a spy to know why Jamie's cheeks flush as she takes the bouquet from Jimmy.

Jamie brings the flowers, an elegant bouquet of gardenias and honeysuckle, into Sarah's office and sets them on her desk. "Flowers!" she says with a squee. "From your cutie pie of a husband, no doubt."

"Thanks, Jamie."

"Honestly, Sarah," the redhead says, perching on the edge of the desk, "He's romantic, funny, charming. Where can I find a guy like that?"

Sarah looks up from her paperwork with an amused expression on her face. "I'm always going to give you the same advice, Jamie. Give the nerd a second glance."

"I'm trying, but how am I supposed to _meet_ nerds?"

Sarah laughs. "Try the comic shop," she jokes, locating the card in the flower arrangement.

"Oooh, what's it say?"

Sarah opens it to read:

_Dinner reservations. Le Mont. 7 PM. Don't forget!_

Chuckling, she shows it to her assistant.

"You must be in trouble," Jamie laughs. "He underlined 'Don't forget!' twice."

"It was one time!" Sarah protests. "I don't know why he still feels the need to remind me."

"Well, the flowers are still sweet," Jamie sighs, her eyes clouding over with daydreams. "Hey," she says, snapping out of her thoughts, "you need someone to babysit?"

Sarah frowns thoughtfully. "I'll have to check with Kate."

Kate, their nanny, is a CIA agent in the domestic service sphere. Though she cares for Megan and Jason full-time, her crucial responsibilities occur when Sarah and Chuck are on a mission, or in the event of an emergency and the kids need to be evacuated (which, thankfully, has yet to happen). Jamie's a junior agent, the only other CIA in Sarah's department. She fills in when Kate is needed on another mission (which isn't often), and the kids are as fond of her as they are of their regular babysitter.

Standing, Jamie nods. "Great. Just let me know." She heaves an exaggerated sigh. "I suppose I should actually get back to work now."

Sarah laughs. "Sure. Thanks, Jame."

After she goes, Sarah doesn't immediately go back to work. She leans back in her chair, gazing at the flowers, at the pictures on her desk. There's a photo of her and Chuck at the Woodcomb wedding, their smiles as bright as the sun shining on them. There's one of the two of them on vacation in Peru, sightseeing in Machu Picchu, a few years before.

But her favorite is a family photo, just the four of them. Megan sits on her lap as Chuck cradles the newborn Jason in his arms. She likes it for its lack of pretence. They're not trying to be anything more than they are, and what they are – a happy, loving family – is pretty amazing to a woman who grew up distrustful of anything resembling human affection.

With a smile, she sets the frame back in its place, gets up, and walks out of her office. On her way to the break room, she spies Jamie, along with a gaggle of women standing around the water cooler. She joins them, a smile on her face but a suspicious look in her eye.

"Hey, ladies," she greets warmly.

"Hey, boss," Jamie smiles. "I know I told you I was going back to work, but we're gossiping."

"Which is so much more important than work," Sarah laughs.

Jamie's grin widens and, when she turns to the other women with a look of triumph, Sarah gets the vague impression that there was a bet going on regarding her willingness to listen to office rumors.

Nicole, a tall brunette with a bubbly laugh, turns to Sarah and says confidentially, "We were just discussing how sweet it is that your husband still sends you flowers at work."

Amanda, an extroverted intern, interjects with a laugh, "My boyfriend's never bought me flowers, even on Valentine's Day. And the world would probably stop spinning if he ever did."

"Well, Chuck's always been thoughtful," Sarah, flustered, tries to explain as she fills a Dixie cup with water.

Jamie laughs, seeming to enjoy the blush rising to her boss's cheeks. "Yeah, he's thoughtful, intelligent, successful. Not that you aren't," she adds quickly.

"Not to mention handsome!" Nicole teases, and Amanda nods her head in agreement.

"You should see him when he rolls out of bed in the morning," Sarah jokes, rolling her eyes.

But even as she says it, something about this picture starts to bother her. When did women start paying attention to her husband? When did they start noticing how handsome he is? He _is_ handsome, granted, way more handsome than he thinks he is, but when did _other_ women start to figure that out?

And the more she thinks about it, the more she realizes how much she's overlooked it. The women on the street who give him a once-over as they pass; his female coworkers, always smiling when he's around, always walking with a bounce in their step; even the girls at Subway who are a little too friendly as they take his order.

The women chatter on about Chuck, but Sarah's too caught up in her own mind to pay much attention to the conversation. Her thoughts running wild, she drains her tiny cup of water in one gulp, crushes the paper in her fist, and tosses the crumpled cup into the waste basket.

Jamie's the only one who seems to notice. Her quiet chuckle breaks through the noise of the conversation, and she says, "All right, all right, this is her husband we're talking about after all. Now," she says, turning to Sarah, "what _I_ really want to know, is how do I find me a guy like that?"

* * *

Sarah holds her twenty-one-month-old daughter in her arms in front of the peach stand. The grocery store is alive with noise and light and color, and Megan giggles incessantly, delighted with the atmosphere.

"How about this one?" she asks, holding a ripe peach in front of Megan.

The little girl reaches out her tiny hand, gives it a squeeze, and declares, "Yep!"

"All right." Sarah smiles, dropping the peach into the bag with the others and tying it up.

She kisses her daughter on the head, her lips brushing over her light wavy hair. Megan grasps the bag firmly, concentrating on not dropping it, as Sarah carries her back to the end of the aisle, where Chuck is waiting next to the cart and looking after seven-month-old Jason.

Except when she rounds the corner, the two boys aren't the only ones there. A tall, curvy, brunette stands next to Chuck, her hand on his arm and a seductive smile on her face. Sarah stops in her tracks long enough to watch the brunette laugh before marching towards them. The mysterious woman looks up and, seeing the fire in her eyes, makes a quick exit and dodges into the next aisle.

"Who was that, Chuck?" Sarah asks, one eyebrow lifted in scrutiny.

Chuck looks up with a smile, and Megan sets the bag of peaches into the cart.

"Her?" he asks as he tousles his daughter's hair. "She was just asking directions."

"Bull," Sarah calls. "She was hitting on you."

Her husband laughs. "What are you talking about? All she did was ask me which aisle the milk was in." Turning to his son, he swings the little boy's chubby arm. "Isn't that right, munchkin?"

Sarah rolls her eyes. Normally she would find his naiveté endearing, but she's been noticing how much attention Chuck's been garnering from the opposite sex lately, and she doesn't like it.

Not one bit.

"Who doesn't know where the milk is?" she asks rhetorically. "Open your eyes, Chuck!"

By this point, both Megan and Jason are looking between their parents, wide-eyed expressions on their faces.

Chuck stares, a stupid look on his face, before a look of comprehension crosses it and he says, "Well, hey, isn't it good that I _don't_ notice these things?"

"No," she protests, "because then you're too oblivious to give them subtle hints to _shove off_!"

Shifting Jason from one arm to the other, Chuck takes the opportunity to hide his smirk from his wife. "'Them'?" he questions, trying hard to appear innocent.

"Last night at the restaurant," Sarah hisses, "and now here. Even the women in my office are all aflutter over you!" She huffs, bouncing Megan against her hip. "Honestly, I can't take you anywhere anymore."

She looks away, but, with a chuckle, he slides an arm around her waist and pulls her close, a difficult feat considering they're each holding a child.

"Sarah . . ." he pleads gently, "you know I only have eyes for you."

She meets his gaze, but fights the smile that threatens to spread across her lips. She can only look into those warm brown eyes for a few seconds before she breaks and lets her face split into a grin.

"That's right," Chuck says with a smile that tells her just how much she's been over reacting. Leaning in for a kiss, he murmurs, "And I better be the only guy on your dance card."

"Don't worry," Sarah laughs. "You are." A wicked gleam appears in her eye as she moves away from him and heads toward the next aisle. "Except, of course, for the delivery guy. You know, the one who brings your flowers all the time. His name's Jimmy, and he's _very_ cute."

Chuck's brow furrows as he follows his wife. Turning to Jason, he says, "If I teach you anything in life, kiddo, it's this: do _not_ mess with that woman. Ever." He shakes his head, the hint of a smile on his lips. "You will never win."

* * *

"I need help," Chuck declares as he walks through the front door of his sister's house. Megan, clinging to his hand, waddles along next to him, and Jason's sleeping against his chest.

"Chuck?" Ellie calls from the kitchen. "Is that you?"

Sitting down on the couch, he cradles his son and puts his feet up on the coffee table. Megan climbs up next to him as Ellie comes in to the living room.

"What's up?" she queries, regarding her brother curiously. She flops down next to them on the sofa and scoops Megan into her lap. "Hey, beautiful," she greets with a smile.

"Auntie Ellie!" Megan exclaims in delight. She holds her arms open questioningly. "Where's Howie?"

"It's his naptime," Ellie replies with a smile at her niece. Howie Woodcomb is six months older than Megan, and the cousins, young as they are, are thick as thieves, inseparable whenever they're together. "He'll be up soon, though. You can play then."

Megan settles into her aunt's lap with a frown. Stroking her hair to placate her, Ellie turns to Chuck and asks, "So what's wrong, little brother?"

He sighs. "I think Sarah's going a tiny bit crazy."

"How so?" she chuckles.

"She seems to think that every woman who talks to me is hitting on me." He shifts the slumbering Jason to his other shoulder so he can get a better look at his sister. "We can't even go to the supermarket without her making a scene."

He looks at her for support, but she has a contemplative look on her face. After a moment, Ellie says, "Are you sure _you're_ not the one who's overreacting?"

"What?" he laughs.

"All I'm saying," she shrugs, "is that Sarah may be seeing something you're missing. You _are_ kind of thick sometimes, Chuck."

"Wait, you think I flirt with other women?"

"No," she smiles, "but you've changed a lot in the past few years, and I've definitely seen other women flirt with you."

His expression goes from incredulous to horrified as a possibility flits through his mind. "Do I flirt back?"

"Well, you don't exactly discourage them, Chuck."

"But Sarah," he sputters, "Sarah knows I'd never . . ."

"Relax," Ellie says, putting a hand on his arm. "I'm sure she does. But it's easy for us to get fed up when we've seen something one too many times."

"Oh, my God," he mutters, running a hand over his eyes. Jason stirs against his shoulder. He bounces his son gently, shushing him back to a peaceful sleep, before looking back at Ellie and asking, "What am I going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"You should have seen her at the grocery store this morning, El. It's like she's a different person when she's . . ."

"Jealous?" Ellie interjects helpfully.

Chuck slumps, reluctant to admit it. "Yeah." He sighs. "I never wanted to be that guy. That guy whose wife always worries about whether her husband is 100% faithful to her. I'm not a mindcheater, Ellie!"

To his surprise, Ellie laughs softly. "Come on, Chuck," she urges, "just because Sarah gets upset when other women flirt with you doesn't mean she thinks you're a cheater."

"Well, how am I supposed to keep her from getting mad at me?"

Smiling, Ellie strokes her niece's hair as she thinks. "When's the last time you've done something special for her?"

"We went on a date last night," he shrugs.

"I'm talking about something different, not just plain old dinner and a movie."

"Hey," he cries, offended, "Le Mont's one of the best new restaurants. You have no idea how hard it was to get reservations."

"I know, Chuck," Ellie replies in exasperation, "but Sarah's not after you for your money, and you don't need to prove what a big shot you are by taking her to a fancy restaurant. I mean, when's the last time you've done something _for her_, just to show her you care?"

Chuck looks dumbfounded. "I make the coffee in the morning?" he offers weakly.

Ellie chuckles. "I'm sure she appreciates that, and all the small things you do, but you two are so busy. Maybe you should just try slowing down for once?"

"Yeah. Yeah," he breathes, feeling as if he suddenly gets it. He looks over at his sister hopefully. "Do you think you can babysit tomorrow night?"

* * *

"Pyramus!"

The dog barks happily as he runs circles around Chuck and Sarah, who walk leisurely, hand-in-hand, across the park pathway. He takes off energetically down the path, stopping and looking back expectedly.

"Get back here!" Chuck calls with a laugh.

Sarah giggles, leaning into his arm. "He's fine," she assures him. "He won't go anywhere." Looking up at him, she asks, "What are we doing here anyway?"

He blushes. "What? I can't take my wife out for a walk in the park?"

"Well, we are in a park," she smiles, "and the giveaway that something's up is the lack of children."

Shrugging, he replies, "Ellie thought it'd be good for all the cousins to spend some time together and for us to have a night off."

"That was very sweet of her. We'll have to return the favor for her and Devon sometime soon."

"Besides," Chuck says in a low voice as they round a corner and a picnic blanket comes into sight, "if we'd brought the kids along, I wouldn't have been able to seduce you."

Sarah stops in her tracks when she sees the red-and-white checked blanket spread wide. A wicker basket sits in the corner, along with a bucket of ice and a bottle of champagne.

"Chuck . . ."

Grinning, he takes her by the elbow and gently coaxes her toward the blanket. "I wanted to do something special for you. I hate to admit it, but I've been kind of failing in the romance department lately."

"What are you talking about?" she asks with a smile as they settle into comfortable sitting positions. "You take me out all the time."

"Exactly. And it's gotten boring because I've completely given up on being imaginative. I take you out to dinner and the movies all the time. Where's the fun in doing the same thing over and over again?"

He shifts so she can lean back against him. Pyramus finally gets bored with chasing squirrels and comes over to plop down on the blanket at their feet.

Chuckling, Sarah reaches over to pet the dog and says, "But I like when we go out."

"I know," he replies with a smile, encircling her in his arms. "I do, too. But I need to step up my game, wouldn't you agree?"

"Mmm, I think you're doing an admirable job."

"Why, thank you."

He grabs the bottle of champagne and pops it open, letting Pyramus try to catch the foam spray in his mouth. Sarah holds out the glasses, and he pours them both a drink.

"A toast," Chuck says, lifting his glass to hers. "To all the days we've spent together, and to all the days we have before us."

After chinking glasses and taking a sip, Sarah cups his face with a palm and presses a brief kiss to his lips.

"I love you, Chuck," she whispers. "You're all I need. I'm sorry I've been so . . . snippy lately."

Smiling, he shrugs. "Eh, we've both been stretched a little thin recently. Which is why I'm taking you on vacation."

Sarah's head snaps around. "What?" she asks, incredulous.

"I'm taking you on vacation," he repeats, more than a little proud of himself. "Wherever you want to go."

"We haven't gone away since before Megan was born."

"I know." Murmuring in her ear, he adds, "Which is why we're going wherever you choose. Anywhere in the world. Let's just . . . take off for a week or two. The kids have lots of people to look after them."

"Chuck," she breathes, "have I told you how amazing you are?"

"Not since last night," he laughs.

Sarah leans into him, wrapping her arms firmly around his waist and pressing a kiss to his lips. "I don't care where we go, as long as it's just you and me, and no crazy spy stuff."

He nods solemnly and returns her kiss. "I promise."

It's a promise that won't be hard to keep, because, as crazy as their life sometimes is, it's also pretty damn close to perfect. And right now, sitting in the middle of a park with his wife in his arms, Chuck Bartowski knows exactly how lucky he is.

* * *

Sarah pauses in her work to take a deep breath and clear her mind. Running a hand through her loose hair, she surveys the damage she's done to their bedroom. Her suitcase, splayed open across the mattress, is still empty after half-an-hour, and clothes are strewn haphazardly over the bedspread.

She's always been a light, efficient packer. Agents have to be ready to leave at a moment's notice, so the fewer possessions the better. But for some reason, maybe it's because they haven't taken a vacation in over two years, she's finding it very difficult to make any headway when it comes to packing for this trip.

Sighing, she walks out of the bedroom and down the hallway, in search of her husband to ask his advice. When she reaches the nursery, she slows down and pokes her head into the doorway to find him in the rocking chair at the opposite end of the room, swaying Jason to sleep. A smile appears on her face as she surreptitiously watches her two men, and she's not surprised when Chuck starts singing a lullaby in a soft, gentle voice.

"Hush-a-bye, don't you cry," he sings under his breath. "Go to sleepy, little baby. When you wake, you'll have cake, and all the pretty little horses." Smiling, he looks down at his son and says, "Are you asleep yet, little guy?"

Sarah leans against the door frame, her heart melting. And suddenly, as she watches the love of her life sing their son to sleep, she _gets it_. She gets how stupid she's been acting.

Everything she needs is right in this house, whether it's the two boys sitting right in front of her or the daughter sleeping in the next room. This is her life, and all the craziness and the chaos and the madness that accompany it are part of what makes it amazing, what makes it _hers_.

And she doesn't care if other women are attracted to Chuck, because he doesn't have eyes for any of them. He loves _her_, for better or for worse. And that's more than good enough for her.

Chuck stands up, walks over to the crib, and leans over to carefully lay Jason down. His hands gripping the wooden sides of the crib, he bends over to place a kiss on his son's forehead.

"Good night, little man."

Sarah straightens and clears her throat, and he turns around, a smile on his face.

"How long have you been there?" he asks.

"Just a few minutes," she replies with a shrug. "But it's not like I haven't seen you put our children to sleep before."

"I don't like it when you spy on me," he states matter-of-factly, ushering her out of the nursery and closing the door behind them.

She leans into him as he slides an arm around her shoulders. "Fair enough."

They stroll down the hallway back toward their bedroom, and she stretches to place a kiss on his cheek.

"Hey, Chuck?"

"Hmm?"

Sarah takes a deep breath, a smile on her face. "Thank you."

She's thanking him for so many things, for believing in her when she didn't have the faith to believe in herself, for having the strength to build this life with her, for just being _him_. He knows all that, knows he doesn't have to say anything. So he just smiles at her – smiles that goofy grin of his – sweeps her into his arms, and presses his lips to hers. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she sinks into the kiss.

Standing in the hallway, in the low light of the rising moon that streams in through the window, Sarah feels all the disorder and confusion dissolve around them.

It's just her, just Chuck, just love.


	13. Violets for Faithfulness

A/N: All right. Well, I know this story is a little crazy in terms of temporal scope, but trust me: I've got it worked out, there's only one chapter after this, and everything has a purpose. :)

Also, you know why I like to write this story? Because it's _happy_! There's so much negativity swirling around the fandom nowadays. This is my way of dealing with it, and it's my way of trying to reassure you that everything's going to work out fine! We're lucky that we're even getting a third season of this fantastic show, so keep an open mind and don't kill it before it even has a chance to air.

We are an _awesome _community. This show has the best fans, as well as the best cast and creative team, to support it. You just gotta keep the faith! :D

Thanks to **BillatWork** for the beta! He didn't even give me a hard time about you-know-who. :P

* * *

Sarah's eyes shoot open.

She stops breathing and strains her ears, sliding out from beneath the covers only when she definitely hears noises from downstairs. Moving quietly so as not to wake her slumbering husband, she grabs her gun from the drawer in the bedside table, tip toes into the hallway, and shuts the door behind her. As she walks down the hall, she checks in on the kids – nine-year-old Megan and six-year-old Jennie in their twin beds, eight-year-old Jason in his own room, and ten-month-old Cole in the nursery – and closes their doors. Quietly, holding her gun at the ready, she creeps down the stairs and towards the kitchen.

She peeks around the corner to see a man standing at the kitchen table, his back to her.

"Freeze," she says dangerously, stepping into the kitchen and leveling her gun at him.

The man already has his hands in the air, a spoon held in his right fist. She narrows her eyes at the sight, wondering why he's holding a utensil of all things, and not even a very useful one at that.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he says with a lilting British accent. "I'm unarmed, and I'm going to turn around. Please don't shoot."

It takes a moment to process, but she recognizes that voice. "Cole?"

Cole Barker turns to face her, a wide grin gracing his handsome features. Exasperated, she drops her gun.

"Hello, Sarah," he greets.

"Cole, it's nearly three in the morning. What are you doing here?"

"I haven't seen my godson since he was born. I think I'm way overdue for a visit to the Bartowski household," he explains as if it should be obvious. And really, he visits often enough, usually unexpectedly, that it shouldn't be a surprise.

Rolling her eyes, Sarah turns to leave the kitchen and go back to sleep. "You know where the guest bedroom is."

He chuckles as she goes and returns his attention to his midnight snack. Sarah yawns as she climbs the stairs and finds Chuck waiting for her at the door of the bedroom.

"Hey," he says softly, "what's going on?"

"Cole's here," she says through another yawn.

Chuck takes the news in stride. "Should I help him get settled?" he asks.

"He knows where everything is," she replies. Taking his hand and pulling him back inside the room, she continues, "Besides, I need you to come back to bed and snuggle with me."

Chuck smiles and willingly follows her lead, climbing under the covers and curling up against her.

* * *

Cole's already there when Chuck makes his way into the kitchen the next morning. The room is awash with the sweet aroma of cinnamon waffles and alive with laughter from the three older kids, all lined up in a row at the kitchen table. Cole looks up at he walks in.

"Good morning, Chuck!" he greets brightly, shaking his hand warmly.

Chuck smiles at the sight of Cole Barker, one of MI-6's most feared and capable agents, standing in a bright yellow kitchen in a plaid apron cooking breakfast for three children under the age of ten. The two men are getting up there in years, but it seems to Chuck like his friend only gets better-looking with age. In fact, the only sign of his increasing years is the tinge of gray hair gracing his temples, but even that only makes him look more distinguished.

"Morning, Cole," he replies as he helps himself to a mug of freshly-brewed coffee. "Morning, kids," he says, ruffling their hair. "Where's your mum?"

"She's getting baby Cole dressed," Jason answers.

Megan, in her softball uniform, looks up expectantly and asks, "Uncle Cole, are you coming to my game today?"

"Of course I am, sweetheart," the man in question chuckles. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. All right!" he announces, turning around and placing a large platter of waffles in the center of the table. "Breakfast is served!"

As everyone serves themselves and digs into breakfast, Sarah waltzes into the kitchen, dressed in a coaching polo and carrying 10-month-old Cole in her arms. She greets the family with a smile and sits down at the table.

She and MI-6 Cole exchange a glance as he hands her a plate of waffles.

"Thanks," she murmurs, shifting baby Cole to one arm and accepting the offering graciously. "These are delicious," she says after a bite. "They almost make up for waking me up in the middle of the night."

Cole laughs, but Chuck watches the exchange closely. He's known Sarah long enough to know when she's suspicious. He just doesn't get why she has any reason to be suspicious of their old friend.

"I'm sorry about that," Cole replies with his characteristic grin. "I'll try to arrive at a more reasonable hour next time I visit."

"Thank you. But you know you're always welcome here."

"Yeah," Chuck agrees. "It's been a long while."

"Thanks," Cole chuckles. He scoops his namesake out of Sarah's arms and bounces him on his knee. Even after ten months of absence, the baby takes to him, giggling and reaching out for his hand. "I missed you guys," Cole explains. "Sorry I didn't call ahead of time."

"What took you so long?" Sarah asks. "You were so excited to have a godson, and now you haven't seen him since he was born."

"Well, I'm seeing him now," Cole argues mildly, sticking his tongue out at Sarah as he amuses his godson. "But I was . . . unavoidably detained. You know how business is."

Sarah nods and replies softly, "Yeah, I do. How long are you staying this time?"

"A few weeks, maybe a month. If that's all right with you."

Jennie lights up and exclaims, "Uncle Cole! You should stay forever!"

Laughing, Cole ruffles the six-year-old's hair, but Sarah turns back to her breakfast with a frown.

Getting the impression that Cole and Sarah have something to work out, Chuck stands up and says, "All right, I'll clear the dishes. Kids, why don't you go get ready? Megan, do you have your glove? Jason, don't forget Pyramus's leash. I'll meet you in the driveway. Last one there is a Sith Lord!"

* * *

The Bartowski family could probably take up an entire set of bleachers by itself. Jason is on the lowest seat, holding Pyramus's leash in his fist. Jennie and the Woodcomb siblings, Howie and Emma, all sit together in a line beside him. Ellie, holding baby Cole in her arms, sits next to Awesome a few rows behind the kids, and Casey hovers at the edge of the section. Chuck and Cole sit at the very top of the bleachers, both wearing red Echo Park Eagles t-shirts and ball caps, the latter in shiny aviators as well.

Chuck claps as Megan's team runs off the field and into the dugout. "So is everything all right with you and Sarah?" he asks nonchalantly.

"Why wouldn't it be?" Cole counters.

"I dunno," Chuck shrugs. "Things just seemed a little . . . tense at breakfast."

The MI-6 agent frowns. "It was nothing. I'm just grateful for some time off."

"Yeah, you don't get much time to relax, do you?"

"No," Cole laughs, "relaxation's not exactly in the job description."

"Well, it was nice of you to request some time off to visit. The kids have missed you."

Cole clears his throat but doesn't say anything. He keeps his gaze trained on the field, clapping when a new batter steps up to the plate.

Chuck narrows his eyes. "What's up?"

"Er, I didn't exactly request time off," Cole admits. He glances over, and, seeing the befuddlement on Chuck's face, clarifies, "I was on one assignment for nearly ten months. The agency prefers to play on the safe side with long assignments. They give mandatory leave, mandatory psych evals."

Pursing his lips, Chuck turns his eyes back to the field. "So they bench you for a month and then show you inkblots to determine whether you're right in the head?"

"Pretty much."

"Doesn't seem fair, after all you've done."

"Well," Cole chuckles mirthlessly, "serving your country is hardly fair."

Chuck clears his throat, not quite sure how far he can push his friend. "Anything you want to talk about?"

Cole's gaze sweeps over the field, over the heads of those sitting below. "No," he answers quietly. He stands up and claps his hands together. "All right. Who's in the mood for nachos?"

* * *

Even though it's August, Sarah makes a fire in the living room fireplace as the rest of the family settles in for game night. It's Jason's turn to pick the game, and, with a sly smile at his older sister, he picks Clue: Secrets and Spies Edition. Sarah narrows her eyes at him at the selection, but doesn't say a word as she slips onto the couch beside Chuck.

Smiling, he slides an arm around her shoulders, and she leans into him.

The kids gather around the coffee table, and Cole sits on the opposite side, baby Cole in his lap.

The game is intense, but, twenty minutes in, Cole lifts up his namesake, sniffs, and says, "Whew. I think it's time for a change, buddy."

"Here," Sarah offers, moving to rise from the couch, "I'll take him."

"No, no, no," Cole says as he stands up. "He's my godson. It's my duty!"

"Funny," Sarah laughs. "Morgan always used that excuse to get _out_ of changing Jason's diapers."

Megan says, "Hurry back, Uncle Cole. It's almost your turn."

"Sure thing," he grins. "I'll be right back."

Chuck watches him leave the living room, amazed that a man like Cole Barker would even know _how_ to change a diaper. He looks at his wife in alarm. "Wait," he says quietly. "Does he know what he's doing?"

"Relax," she responds with a smile. "He'll be fine."

But five minutes later, he still hasn't come back. Chuck plays his turn, but when his turn comes 'round again and Cole _still_ hasn't shown up, Sarah gives him a little push and asks, "Will you go check on them?"

"Sure. Take my turn for me."

Chuck rises from the couch and heads upstairs toward the nursery. Poking his head in the doorway, he finds Cole in the rocking chair, holding little Cole against his broad chest.

"Hey," he says as he comes in. "I just wanted to make sure everything was all right."

Cole takes a deep breath. "Yeah," he says, his voice rough, "everything's fine."

Sitting down on the window sill and crossing his arms, Chuck scrutinizes his friend, finally notices the far-off, melancholy look in his eye. "You sure you're all right?" he asks gently.

"I want this, Chuck," Cole admits softly. "I want a family, want something I can be proud of. Is that not strange?" His voice is full of incredulous awe as he stares wistfully at his godson.

Chuck stifles the urge to laugh at the strapping, manly MI-6 agent suddenly feeling the pull to settle down and become a family man. "No, not strange at all," he answers. "But I hope this isn't arising chiefly from this moment."

Cole's brow furrows as he says, "I met a woman." Chuck's jaw almost drops in surprise, but he waits patiently for an explanation. Cole sighs, "In Poland, about eight months ago. She's . . ." He breaks off and shakes his head, looking for a way to describe her. "She's perfect, Chuck. She has two little kids, Małgosia and Piotr."

Chuck's ears perk up. He hadn't expected kids to factor into the equation. "Oh, yeah? How old?"

"Nine and seven." He lets out a heavy sigh and rests his head against the rocker. "I can't get her out of my head."

Chuck doesn't quite see the problem. "You've got a month off, Cole," he says. "So what are you doing here when you could be with her?"

Cole purses his lips. Hesitantly, he replies, "It's not exactly that simple."

"Come on," Chuck laughs. "Not simple for Cole Barker, spy extraordinaire, to have any woman he wants?"

"That might work if I loved her less. Besides, she thinks I'm a crook."

Chuck whistles under his breath. "Why does she think that?"

"I got arrested, part of the plan. What _wasn't_ part of the plan was her finding out about it. The Agency, of course, shuffled me off as soon as the mission was over, before I could get a chance to explain it to her."

"So you haven't seen her since?"

Cole shakes his head sadly. "She doesn't want to see me."

"You can't think like that," Chuck tells him encouragingly.

"But I know," Cole insists. "Her husband, he was a louse. Ran off right after Piotr was born. The last she heard from him was when he sent the divorce papers. Now I'm just the English louse she got involved with, no better than he was."

"Don't you see it? You _are_ better than he was. Because you love her. And you'll go back to her because of that."

Thoughtfully, Cole strokes his godson's hair. "What if she doesn't want to hear what I have to say?"

"She will. All this is, Cole, is a simple miscommunication. You need to find her, say, 'I'm sorry. I love you,' and there's no way she won't forgive you."

Cole glances up at his friend, an uncertain smile finally gracing his features. "You think so?"

"Definitely."

"But . . . I'm not good at this sort of thing. I'm not good at telling people how I feel."

"Maybe not," Chuck concedes, "but doesn't that make this all the more important?" Seeing the hesitation on his face, he continues, "I remember the first time Sarah told me she loved me. You know she'd never say that kind of thing unless she meant it. But do you know how great it feels to hear something like that, knowing how rare it is? Cole," he says, "show her you mean it."

Cole sits in contemplative silence for a moment before asking, "I have to go back to Poland, don't I?"

"Yeah," Chuck laughs softly, "you have to go back to Poland."

* * *

Sarah stands in the threshold, hands on hips, surveying the scene before her. Megan is sprawled out on the couch, nose buried in a book, Pyramus curled up next to her. Chuck and Jennie battle it out on Wii Tennis while Jason looks on, baby Cole on his lap. MI-6 Cole is there too, sitting cross-legged on the floor with his back against an armchair, eating creamy peanut butter straight from the container, a despondent look on his face as he follows the action on the screen.

She rolls her eyes and strolls into the living room. "First of all," she says to Cole, and his attention snaps to her, "I eat that peanut butter, thank you very much." He offers it back to her wordlessly, an apology in his eyes, but, amused, she just rolls her eyes and says, "That's okay. Keep it. Secondly, your flight's in four hours. Why aren't you dressed? Are you even packed?"

He lifts himself from the floor and smoothes out his clothes. "I eat when I get nervous," he explains in a mumble. "So thanks for the peanut butter. And why can't I wear this?" Looking down at himself, Cole holds his arms open in a wide shrug.

Sarah casts a disapproving glance over his clothing. "You can't wear jeans and a t-shirt to go win the love of your life," she insists.

He frowns. "Can't I change when I get there?"

"You said you were going straight to see her."

"I can't even stop at my hotel first?"

"Why do you need a hotel?"

Cole, cowering the slightest bit, glances over at the gamers for reinforcements. "Uh, Chuck?"

Without even looking up, Chuck laughs and replies, "You gotta trust her, dude. She knows what she's talking about."

Sighing, Cole turns back to Sarah. "Okay," he concedes. "I'll wear a suit jacket."

"Good," she beams. "Oh, and when you get there, buy her flowers."

He nods and turns to go, but she stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Wait," she says. "Not roses. Violets."

"Why?"

"They mean faithfulness."

"Thanks, Sarah," he replies with a wide smile. He takes a deep breath and says, "What would I do without you two to talk some sense into me?"

Chuck laughs. "You do _not_ want her to answer that."

"All right, kids," Sarah grins. "Come hug your uncle goodbye."

Megan jumps up from the couch to give her uncle a squeeze, and Jennie leaps on to his back.

"Is it true we're getting a new aunt?" she asks, her arms 'round his neck.

Cole laughs, spinning her about. "I hope so." Smiling, he hugs Jason and takes his namesake in his arms. "I sure hope so."

* * *

Two weeks go by without a word. Chuck starts to fret a little after so long with no communication, but Sarah convinces him that things as important as this take time. So, when the kids vote for quesadillas, they settle in for the evening to cook dinner like they usually do. Jennie offers to help, and Sarah, well-aware of her daughter's penchant for knives, puts her in charge of cutting up the vegetables.

As they sit down at the table, all six of them, Sarah can't stop the smile that comes to her face. Her gaze wanders over her family – her _family_ – and her heart almost can't hold all the emotions that bubble up at the sight.

When the doorbell rings, it resounds through the house and interrupts the lively, chaotic conversation. The chatter ceases as everyone looks around.

"Uh, I'll get it?" Chuck suggests, the legs of his chair scraping as he rises from his seat and walks out of the dining room toward the front door.

"Are Howie and Emma coming over?" Megan asks.

"I don't know," Sarah replies. "Ellie didn't mention anything when I talked to her yesterday."

"Maybe it's Uncle Casey!" Jason exclaims.

"No," Jennie responds, shaking her head and setting down her milk glass, "he never rings the bell."

Smiling at the exchange, Sarah strains her ears to ear the conversation from the foyer. A minute later, Chuck returns to the dining room, and all eyes turn to him.

"What's up?" she asks, noticing the smile on his face.

"Think we can fit four more?" he laughs.

She narrows her gaze at him, perplexed, but she suddenly understands when Cole walks into the room, followed by a dark-haired, shy-looking woman and two young children, both raven-haired and fair-skinned. They look around bashfully, the boy hiding behind his mother's leg.

"Uncle Cole!" Jennie exclaims, leaping out of her chair and into the newcomer's arms.

"Hello, sweetheart!"

"I missed you!"

"Well, I've missed you, too. But there are a few people I want you to meet." Shifting Jennie to one arm, he steps aside to make room for his guests. "Everyone," he announces, holding out his free hand in introduction, "this is Sofia and her children, Małgosia and Piotr."

"Are you my new aunt?" Jennie asks with a giggle.

"Jennie," Chuck warns softly.

"It's all right, Chuck," Cole says, grinning. Turning to Jennie, he asks, "Would you like her to be your aunt?"

Jennie levels a scrutinizing gaze at the visitor, who meets her look with a calm, dignified smile.

"Do you like Legos?"

Cole turns to Sofia and translates quietly, "Lubisz Legos?"

"Tak," Sofia nods, a twinkle in her eye. "Bardzo lubię Legos. Małgosia i Piotr lubią też."

Jennie, a curious expression on her face, looks up at Cole for a translation. "She says she likes Legos _very_ much," he tells her. "Maggie and Pete, too."

Beaming, Jennie opens her arms to Sofia and pronounces, "I like you!"

Cole chuckles and facilitates the hug before introducing Jennie to Maggie and Peter. Leaving the children to get acquainted, Sarah walks over to Sofia and embraces her warmly.

"Dzień dobry," she says with a smile.

"Ah, dzień dobry," Sofia replies, looking relieved to find out that someone besides Cole speaks Polish.

"Przywitanie."

"Welcome to the family," Chuck grins. "It's awesome to have you." He nudges Sarah in the side. "Will you, will you translate that?"

Chuckling, Sarah replies, "I think she gets the gist, honey."

Sure enough, Sofia takes a breath and says, haltingly, "Dzienkuję. It is . . . nice . . . to meet you, to meet . . . friends of Cole."

"Proszę. Please," Sarah says, gesturing to the dinner table, "have a seat."

Chuck scrambles around for extra chairs, and the four newcomers crowd in at the table, raising their total number to ten. The dinner is merry, and, given the language barrier, the atmosphere noisy. But, seeing the smiles on everyone's faces, the joy in Cole's and Sofia's eyes, Sarah wouldn't trade it for the world.

* * *

Chuck looks up from his magazine as Sarah walks into the bedroom.

"Everyone good?" he asks.

"Yeah," she nods as she slips under the covers. "Cole's on the couch, Małgosia's in the girls' room, and Piotr and Sofia are both settled in the guest bedrooms."

"Good," he replies with a smile, sliding his arm around her and pulling her close. He chuckles lightly. "So, Cole Barker the family man, huh? Can you believe it?"

She smiles as she leans against him. "Well, to tell you the truth, I kind of expected it."

"Really?" Chuck asks, his brows raised.

Shrugging, she replies, "I thought it'd happen eventually. It's not that hard to imagine if you've lived through it."

He grins, and Sarah leans forward to press a kiss to his lips. She snuggles against him, grateful for his warm presence, and finds it a bit hard to believe how incredibly lucky they are.

When she emerges from the bathroom the next morning, fully showered and fully expecting Chuck to still be sleeping, she's surprised when he's not in the bedroom at all.

"Chuck?" she calls out, looking around the room.

And that's when she sees it – an unassuming vase of violets sitting on the bedside table. They're beautiful, deceptively simple, the lush purple of the petals standing out against the deep maroon of the wall.

Sarah breaks out into a wide smile at the sight. She's still grinning when she turns around and almost runs smack into her husband as he comes racing through the doorway.

"Do you know how hard it is to make breakfast for ten people?" Chuck asks rhetorically. "I need to go buy some more orange juice and eggs. Have you seen my keys?"

He rakes a hand through his hair and roams around the room, overturning pillows and books in his search. Laughing, she throws her arms around his neck and plants a kiss on his lips.

Calmer, he pulls back with a smile. "What was that for?" he asks.

"For being you," Sarah answers simply. She extricates herself from his embrace, walks across the room, and locates his keys poking out from beneath the dresser. She tosses them to him over the bed. "Try to hold onto them for a little while, okay?" she laughs.

Chuck grins as he catches the key ring. "Have I told you today how much I love you?"

Sarah smiles, basks in her good fortune at finding him, at how they've been able to create this life together. He doesn't _need_ to tell her, because the love is written right there on his face, for all the world to see.

"Come on," she says, crossing the room and sliding her hand into his. "I believe there's a family waiting for us downstairs."


	14. Epilogue

A/N: Does anyone actually remember this story? Nope, haha. But I wanted to finish it, and here it is. I won't bother you with excuses for taking so long. I hope you enjoy it, though, and I hope it helps you remember the fun things we love about Chuck and Sarah, and how lucky we are to be getting _Season 4_! :D

* * *

Sarah opens the door to the upstairs guestroom, where the bridal party is getting ready, and her gaze immediately settles upon her elder daughter.

Not that she's especially difficult to pick out, her ivory-colored gown standing out in light contrast with the deep scarlet of the bridesmaids' dresses. Seated in an armchair in the corner while Cole's daughter Maggie puts the finishing touches on her makeup, 27-year-old Megan looks perfectly composed.

But Sarah can see the hint of worry in her eye.

"Hey," she says, addressing the entire room, "how's it going in here?"

In addition to Megan and Maggie, Megan's aunts Ellie and Sophia and her cousin Emma are helping her (and each other) get ready for the ceremony. Gwen, the mother of Colin, the groom, is pinning Megan's veil on. And there's Katie, Colin's younger sister and Megan's fourth bridesmaid, who is sitting in the corner and lacing up her matching Converses.

"Almost ready," Ellie announces.

"Well you better slow down a little," Sarah laughs. "The ceremony doesn't start for another forty-five minutes."

Maria and Maggie ease off their tasks as Megan rises to her feet and crosses the room to Sarah.

"Have you heard from Jennie yet, Mom?" she asks.

"Not yet," Sarah offers with a sad smile. "Your brother's trying to get a hold of her, but you know how she is – always forgetting her phone."

When Megan's face falls, Sarah rubs her back comfortingly. "Hey, she'll be here, sweetie. She promised, didn't she?"

Megan nods.

Sarah smiles at the stunning young woman standing before her. With long blond hair (pulled up in curls for the wedding) and pale green eyes from the Walker side, she reminds Sarah of her own mother.

Sarah presses a kiss to her cheek. "You look beautiful. Now, I'm going to go check on your groomsmen, but I'll be back."

She exits just as quickly as she came, leaving the women to their tasks and heading down the hallway toward the men's guest room. Inside, she finds her husband and her sons, 26-year-old Jason and 18-year-old Cole, along with Colin, Colin's cousin and best man Bradley, Uncle Casey, Uncle Morgan, Uncle Devon, Devon and Ellie's son Howie, Colin's father, and two of Colin's uncles.

It's even more crowded than the women's room.

Poking her head inside the doorway, she calls softly, "Chuck."

Chuck, laugh wrinkles around his eyes and his short dark hair streaked with gray, looks over with a smile. "Hey, hon. What's up?"

"Have you heard from Jennie yet?"

Frowning, he walks over to her. "She's still MIA?" Sarah nods, and he asks, "Does Megan know?"

"Well, it's a little hard to hide the fact that her maid of honor is missing."

"I suppose so," he sighs. "So what do we do?"

"Will you see if you can find Cole? He might have an idea of what's keeping her."

It makes sense. Out of their generation, Cole Barker is the only one still active with the agency. And, after he married Sophia, moved to the States, and made the switch from MI-6 to the CIA, he's been a mentor for Jennie, since her first day with the agency.

"Sure," Chuck nods.

Sarah turns away, but he catches her gently by the wrist to stop her.

"You know she's going to be here, Sarah," he prompts. "So what's really the matter?"

She frowns. Stepping out from the doorway, she leans against the wall and admits, "It's our little girl, Chuck. The things she could be doing . . . We don't even know where she is right now."

"Sarah, relax," he says with a smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "She just got out of the academy. What trouble could she possibly be getting into?"

"You're forgetting that this is _our_ daughter," Sarah laughs, and he has to concede the point.

* * *

_Two nights ago._

With the festival going on, the streets of Barcelona are crowded with citizens and tourists, alive with music and energy.

It's positively entrancing.

Jennie Bartowski's been to a lot of places in her life – parents who heartily believe in the benefits of life experience will do that to a kid – but she's never seen anything like this. She lives for new places, new people, new air, and this atmosphere is enough to intoxicate her.

It's a shame she has a job to do.

Patrick slides his arm around her and pulls her close. He's dark-haired, fair-skinned, and has a laugh that makes her feel like they can get through anything. The top two in their class, they've only been paired together for five months, but already they've become unstoppable.

"Do you see him?" he whispers.

She nods. "Over by the fountain."

"Ready to do this, Mrs. Bennet?" he grins.

Checking the Smith & Wesson tucked into the waistband of her jeans, she smiles back at him. "I was born . . . Well, no, I wasn't, but yes, I am ready now, Mr. Bennet."

Walking swiftly and fluidly, matching each other step-for-step, they head toward their target, and Jennie immediately feels that familiar wave of adrenaline she's coming to recognize as a mission high.

And she smiles, because, as much as she loves traveling to exotic places, nothing can compare to this rush.

* * *

_Present_.

Chuck wipes his hands on his tuxedo pants as he walks out of the manor house and into the gardens. The autumn day is warm, sunny, and beautiful, just what they could have wished for. Squinting against the afternoon sun, he winds his way down the garden path and toward the lawn, where most of the guests are already seated.

Bryce stands at the edge of the seating area, looking dapper in his suit as he ushers guests toward their seats.

"Bryce," Chuck calls, jogging over to his old friend. "Bryce, hey, have you seen Cole?"

"Barker or Bartowski? You know, after eighteen years, I still get confused. Couldn't you have given one of them a nickname?" Bryce laughs.

"You're just sore we didn't name him after you," Chuck teases.

"Of course not," Bryce shrugs. "After all, we couldn't have had him getting too jealous of my good looks, could we?"

"And I don't think you could've handled it if your namesake were better looking than you," Chuck replies with a laugh. "Which he is, by the way."

"Yeah, well, that comes from Sarah's side, obviously."

Chuck shakes his head with a smile before saying, "Anyways, Bartowski's upstairs, still figuring out to tie his bowtie, I think. But I'm looking for Barker. Any chance you've seen him?"

"No, I haven't seen him all day. Why? What's up?"

Frowning, Chuck admits, "Jennie's not here yet. Sarah thinks Cole might have an idea of what's keeping her."

"Don't we all have an idea?" Chuck lifts a brow, and Bryce continues, "Come on, buddy. We all know what the job's like."

"Yeah, but Megan, Ellie, Sarah . . . There'll be an entire line of people waiting to slaughter her if she doesn't make it today."

"It's a good thing she's quick with a gun, then."

"You are no help at all, you know that?" Chuck laughs.

"I've been told," Bryce concedes with a shrug.

"All right," Chuck sighs, fishing his cell from his pocket. "Jennie's not answering, but I'm going to try Cole. I'll see you in a bit."

Bryce nods. "Let me know if you need anything."

"Sure thing, buddy."

Chuck walks away, back toward the gardens, but Cole doesn't answer. The call goes straight to voicemail, and he cuts it off in the middle of Cole's voicemail greeting. Shoving his hands into his trouser pockets, he looks up at the sky in frustration.

But instead, he finds Sarah, standing on the balcony, gazing down at him.

He lifts a hand in greeting. She returns the gesture, tilting her head questioningly. He shakes his head, and his wife's face falls.

Chuck breathes out a deep sigh, letting his shoulders slump.

Nearly thirty years, and he feels like he's letting her down. She was always the one more comfortable with facing illegal weapons dealers than she was with facing in-laws, and he'd been the one to reassure her that family would be their rock.

But how can he put truth to those words when he can't even find their daughter?

* * *

Sweet autumn wind blows through Cole's hair as he lets down the convertible roof and steps on the gas. The winding country roads are perfect for his shiny new Porsche (an anniversary gift from Sophia), but his current preoccupation with speed is not an aging man's obsession with feeling youthful. A man of adventure until the end, he's never had that problem, especially with his wife by his side.

Rather, he is currently breaking every speed limit and even some additional road rules he encounters in a desperate attempt to get his best friends' daughter to her sister's wedding on time.

After all, he's never been a man to let his friends down, and the Bartowski clan has been invaluable to him over the years.

Not that he'd ever tell _them_ that.

Jennie sits slouched in the passenger seat, nervously tying the laces of her new Converses for the twelfth time. They're dark red, to match her maid of honor dress, and he can't help but wonder whose idea they were exactly – hers, Megan's, or Chuck's. They're all so nerdy, it's hard to tell sometimes.

"Could you go a bit faster, Uncle Cole?"

Cole laughs. "If I go any faster, we'll plunge over these cliffs."

When Chuck and Sarah had retired the previous summer, they'd moved into the country. It's a beautiful estate, but the drive into the mountains can get treacherous, especially for those on their way to a very important wedding.

"Besides," he adds, "I thought spies were supposed to have patience."

"Well, I _am_ a slow learner."

Cole rolls his eyes. She's her mother's daughter through-and-through, but when she effortlessly quotes movies like that, ridiculously nerdy movies from before her generation, he realizes again just how much of Chuck's personality she's inherited as well.

For some reason, that always surprises him. Maybe it's the fact that he's seen her on a mission, seen the deadly, focused look in her eyes, so reminiscent of Sarah's.

But today, those blue eyes are sparkling.

She may try to hide it, but Jennie Bartowski is just like the rest of them – formed by love, full of honor, brimming with hope.

After ten more minutes, in which Jennie fiddles incessantly with the radio, they pull into the driveway of the Bartowski home. Cole pulls the convertible around the circular drive and slows it to a skidding stop near the front steps, where Sarah sits, knees pulled to her chest, chin resting on her folded hands.

She regards them passively as they quickly hop out and head toward the house. Jennie stops in front of her mother, stooping to meet her eyes. The two lock gazes for a few seconds, an unspoken conversation passing between them that Cole doesn't understand, before Sarah smacks her daughter lightly on the cheek and Jennie rushes into the house.

Cole adjusts his cuff link as he meanders up the steps and takes a seat beside her.

"Well," he grins, "we made it."

Smirking, she taps the cell phone sitting next to her on the porch, takes a look at the time, and replies, "With eight minutes to spare. Impressive."

"I do my best."

Sarah sighs, a brooding crease in her brow, and Cole, squinting into the distance, can feel her silent reprimand. He suppresses a shiver, and then a small smirk. As amazing as Sarah is, he's glad he isn't the one who has to deal with that fiery temper.

Although, the look on her face makes him think that she's upset over more than just his unpunctuality and irresponsibility with his mobile (which he idly hopes Sophia had picked up before she left the house).

He sighs and says quietly, "I know what you see when you look at her. You see . . . scraped knees and bruised hearts. And I know she's still your little girl. But she's also a competent spy." He turns to her, a knowing smile on his face. "You and Chuck taught her well."

"Thank you," she nods solemnly.

He can't stop himself from beaming. Sarah Walker Bartowski is not a woman of many words, but she can manage to inject a million into just those two.

"Come on," he says, holding out his hand, "I do believe you have a daughter to marry off."

* * *

Cole walks straight through the house to the back patio, where the wedding party is waiting impatiently, while Sarah searches the first floor for her younger daughter. She finds her in the bathroom, bobby pins hanging out of her mouth as she sticks a few extra into her up-do.

"Hey, sweetie," Sarah says, standing in the doorway.

"Mom, I know I'm late, and you and Dad were worried and everything, but I have approximately four minutes to fix my hair and get my ass out there before Megan strangles me."

Sarah rolls her eyes at her overdramatic tendencies, but simply says, "Don't swear. It's vulgar." Now it's Jennie's turn to roll her eyes, but Sarah ignores her and continues, "No guns at the wedding."

Jennie immediately stops fixing her hair and looks incredulously at her. "But –"

"I'm serious, Jennie. No guns, no knives, no weapons at all."

"But what if something happens? I want to be ready."

Sarah fights to keep the smile off her face. Jennie is never so eager, so excited than she is when the possibility of a firefight comes up. "All your uncles are here, plus your aunt Ellie, not to mention your father and I. So what exactly do you think is going to happen?"

"I don't know," Jennie shrugs. "But you and Dad have lots of enemies, and I want to be ready, especially today."

"Well, I'm sure Megan would appreciate the thought –"

"If she knew."

"If she knew," Sarah concedes with a chuckle, "but this is still my house, and there will be no weapons at this wedding."

"What about the 30-foot rule?"

Smirking, Sarah thumbs her daughter's nose. "It doesn't apply at family celebrations, babe. Now, off with the hip holster."

Her eyes widening, Jennie exclaims, "How'd you even know?"

Sarah, already on her way out, stops at the doorway to look back and say, "Please, 22 years and you haven't learned that you can't hide anything from me? What kind of spy are you?"

Jennie shakes her head, a smile on her face, and hastily unsnaps her holster before following her outside.

Megan lifts a brow as they step out onto the patio and Jennie sidles up against her older sister.

"Glad you could make it, little sister," Megan greets.

Jennie accepts her bouquet from Katie, thanks her, and says with a shrug, "Yeah, well, I didn't have any better offers."

The two sisters stand in silence for a minute, Jennie shifting from foot to foot and Megan fiddling anxiously with her flowers, before Megan breaks and slides an arm around her sister's neck.

Pressing a quick kiss to her cheek, the bride says, "I'm glad you're here."

Jennie turns red as she tries to hide a smile, and, in an whisper, she says, "You know I wouldn't miss this for the world."

Sarah watches her daughters quietly from across the patio, smiling as she leans into Chuck's shoulder.

* * *

Chuck turns his gaze across the lawn, and, his breath catching at the sight of her, he marvels at the way she can still set his heart on fire even after nearly thirty years together. Picking up two flutes of champagne, he meanders his way across the lawn. She sits on a bench at the edge of the garden, illuminated by the fading sunlight and the garden lights, a contemplative smile on her face.

"You, my dear," he murmurs as he sits down beside her, "are as gorgeous as ever."

Sarah snorts, the sound sending a familiar wave of delight through him

Handing her a glass of champagne he says, "You've been pretty quiet all day."

She slides an arm around his waist and takes a sip of champagne before saying, "Just . . . taking it all in, that's all."

He lets out a deep breath, smiling happily as she rests her head against his shoulder. After all these years, just sitting beside her can still put him at such ease, can still put such a contentment in his heart.

He remembers a time when their lives were nothing but chaos and danger, and the memories make him eternally grateful that they can call this – this celebration, this happiness, this family – their life now. Taking a long look around, his smile gets wider as he takes in the scene.

There's Ellie and Awesome, slow dancing and looking as in-love as they've always been. Casey, Morgan, and Bryce are tossing horseshoes. And most of the Bartowski-Woodcomb cousins are hanging around in a circle in the middle of the lawn, drinks in their hands and laughter in their eyes – Howie, Emma, Jason and Maggie, Jennie, Peter, Cole, all their significant others and friends and more who have been welcomed into the family - including the newest members, Katie and Bradley.

And then there's Megan, her eyes closed in contentment as her new husband twirls her around in the grass.

When he closes his eyes, he can still see her as a newborn – pink and squished and beautiful. She's still beautiful, her mother's daughter, and he's going to miss her when she moves away to start her new life. She and Colin are off to live in Chicago after the wedding. Chuck has never been far away from family, because family had always meant Ellie, or Sarah, and they were always _there_. But this move is already hitting him hard.

Then again, he suspects he'll see her more often than it seems. Megan's playing first base for the Chicago Bandits, and Sarah's already bought season tickets for next summer. That will at least occupy them for a few months. He and Sarah have been going a little stir-crazy since their joint retirement.

"So what do we do now?" he asks.

She lifts her head to regard him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, there's no more wedding to plan, Jason's been on his own for a few years now, Cole's off at Stanford, and Jennie's . . . well, Jennie's pretty much you thirty years ago. No more kids to raise, an empty house . . ." He grins at her. "What do we do now?"

Leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips, Sarah shrugs and says, "Same thing we've always done."

"What?" he grins. "You mean, be awesome?"

She shakes her head with a laugh. "Yeah, something like that. Although I wouldn't object to doing a little traveling now that we have some time. You know, the sight-seeing kind."

"As opposed to the fighting bad guys kind."

"Mm-hmm," she murmurs, curling her fingers into his salt-and-pepper hair.

"Well," Chuck says happily, "it seems like we've got our whole lives ahead of us, doesn't it, Mrs. Bartowski?"

"It sure does, Mr. Bartowski," she chuckles, kissing him again. "And I'm looking forward to spending it with you."

Chuck's heart swells as he gives her a squeeze around the shoulders. He lets his gaze roam over the reception, over the guests, lets a feeling of lazy contentment fill him.

"Chuck?"

"Hmm?"

Sarah sighs and lets the silence hang for a moment before asking, "If you had a superpower, what would it be?"

Chuck lets out a charmed laugh. Because the fact is, with her around, he doesn't need any superpowers.


End file.
